


Above the Broken Dreams

by howl-to-the-wind (greenleaf)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, BAMFs, Blackmail, Coercion, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Guns, Hidden Agenda, Kidnapping, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent In Kissing, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Orphans, Professional Thief, Revenge, Secrets, Sexual Tension, Stealing, Undercover Missions, crime boss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 12:36:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenleaf/pseuds/howl-to-the-wind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski, professional thief, meets Derek Hale during a heist gone wrong. Derek is the leader of the Hale Family, one of the most powerful families in the criminal underworld, and is obviously bad news. Stiles' hatred-slash-interest in the man is immediate. Derek, on the other hand, is captivated by his wily new adversary.</p><p>They start crossing paths several times after and it becomes harder and harder for them to hide their mutual attraction. But people are watching and lines are being crossed and it’s only getting more dangerous the further they go down the rabbit hole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song “Search and Destroy” by 30 Seconds to Mars. The plot is inspired by the wonderful, perfect, beautiful manga, “You’re My Loveprize in Viewfinder” by Ayano Yamane. The opening scene here is based on the opening scene of the manga. If you are a fan of mafia AU and gorgeous boys and hot sex, I suggest you read that one.
> 
> Enjoy.

“Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.”

Stiles skirted down the maze of alleys, weaving his way in and out, never stopping to rest or look back. Once in a while he almost ran into a dead end, but he managed to climb up the gates or toss himself over the dumpsters that barricaded his way. He yelped when a gunshot rang through the air. Thankfully it missed.

“Stop!”

“Not a chance!” Stiles shouted without looking back. He gripped the film canister tightly in his hand and pushed it deep into his jacket pocket. He wasn’t going to lose this, not after all it took for him to get it and the reward waiting for him at the end of this job.

There was a gunshot and he yelped when it grazed his pants leg.

So far, he’d been lucky, but he wasn’t sure it would miss him next time.

“Go the other way! Cut him off!” Someone shouted.

Stiles cursed under his breath, looking around as he ran. He prided himself in having a good sense of direction so he knew immediately where he was headed. He was headed for Redwood District which was usually packed with people. He would get lost in the crowd easily.

Stiles heard shouting and running footsteps ahead of him and skidded to a stop. He skirted down another alley just as several men appeared ahead of him and let out a rain of bullets. Stiles ended up running up a stairwell.

“Dammit. At this point I’m gonna get boxed in at the roof.” If he got stuck there, he was good as dead.

“Run. Run. Run.” He kept to the wall and away from the edge of the stairs as gunshots and shouts came from below. He had to keep moving.

He yelped when a gunshot clipped him on the ankle and he risked a look down to see that a man was just one level below him. He jumped up as the man tried to shoot at his legs again and he placed a hand on the wall as he ascended the steps so that he didn’t put too much pressure on his now bleeding ankle.

“Fuck. I thought for sure I could get away with no shots. There goes my promise to Scott.” He staggered up the steps.

Stiles reached the top level and rammed his shoulder against the metal door. It creaked under the force but remained shut. His injury was stinging already from all his running. It was getting harder to even just stand. He made to ram into it again but it swung open and he ended up crashing straight into someone’s arms.

“Got you, you little punk!”

Stiles let out a grunt as he was slammed against a wall face-first, two pairs of hands holding his wrists behind him in vice-iron grips.

“Let me go!” he shouted, struggling. He looked up. His face was being pushed against the wall so he couldn’t see much but it was obvious that he was cornered.

Two males were behind him holding onto his wrists while a third one was standing behind him with a gun in his hand.

Stiles gritted his teeth. He could have taken them all on if they didn’t have any guns and if his ankle wasn’t injured. He felt the small film canister dig into his tummy inside his jacket pocket. No matter what he had to pass this on to Scott.

As he was calculating his odds, someone spoke.

“Stiles, how nice to finally meet you.”

He looked up through soggy bangs wet from perspiration. The males holding onto his arms turned him around.

He was in a suit like the others, but with a black undershirt and silver dog tags hanging from his neck. Gun holsters were strapped to his sides and Stiles counted about three guns. Stiles could tell that he was top dog around here.

Stiles was doomed.

He looked up at the face of his captor.

The man looked strong and muscled underneath his shirt. His air was slicked back and his eyes were dark and sharp like a predator. He had a five o’clock shadow that drew attention to his strong jaw. His face was calm, unmoved even, like this was something he’d seen all his life, which was probably true, and Stiles would be a fool to deny that the look made him nervous.

There was a trace of a smirk on the man’s face.

Stiles gritted his teeth, keeping quiet.

“I’ve heard of you, Stiles, quite the reputation as a professional thief.” The male looked at him. “And now you’ve taken something of ours.” He shrugged. “Well, not quite ours, but something of one of our clients. She would very much like to have it back.”

Stiles kept quiet. He struggled against the guards that held him but their hold just grew tighter.

The mysterious male looked at him seriously. “It would not be good if word got out that the Hale Family was unable to secure the possessions of its clientele.” He leaned towards him, his smirk growing, aura growing dangerous. “We do not take kindly to interference from outsiders so I will be very pleased if you just give it back like a good boy.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Stiles hissed, looking him straight in the eye without fear. He was an expert liar. “I don’t have-”

One of the guards kicked his injured ankle while another hit him right on the back. Stiles collapsed to the floor, trying to swallow his hisses of pain. One of them grabbed the front of his jacket and he cursed as the film canister was taken.

“Bad things happen to good little boys who lie and don’t follow orders,” the male said, pocketing the canister. “You shouldn’t stick your nose in other people’s business.”

Stiles swallowed a cry of pain and looked up. “Shut up, asshole.”

He jumped up, brandishing the gun he sneakily swiped from the man who grabbed the canister. He fired several shots and then immediately ran off down the hall, turning a corner quickly before they could get a clear shot of him.

Above the sound of shouting men, the boss’s voice rang above them all.

“That idiot is only going to run himself onto the rooftop. There’s nowhere else he can go.”

That was true.

Stiles managed to get to the rooftop, limping slightly and completely breathless. He looked down over the edge.

The door behind him opened and he looked back.

“There’s nowhere to run!” One of the guards shouted. “Give yourself up!”

The leader brought up the rear, walking like he had all the time in the world. Stiles could see his bleeding shoulder and felt satisfaction at having injured him. That man took his canister and while Stiles wasn’t foolish enough to try and get it back, he was glad he could at least exact a small form of revenge.

“Give up,” the male said.

Stiles smirked.

“I’ve been in worse situations than being chased by the likes of you.”

Without hesitation, he threw himself off the roof.

* * *

Derek had seen a lot of things in his life, so many that he wasn’t so easily shocked. But when that boy threw himself off the edge of the building, an amused smirk on his face, he felt uncharacteristic shock shoot through him.

He looked over the edge and was greeted with the sight of his prey having already skirting down the steps of the fire escape and then riding the last of the ladder onto the pavement below.

If that wasn’t enough, the male looked up, eyes meeting his dead-on.

And stuck his tongue out at him.

He ran off, getting lost in the crowd.

Derek kept his gaze down, watching the road. “It’s no use. We can’t risk harming civilians. We’re stopping the chase.”

“Dammit!” Isaac kicked the ground with his shoe. “We almost had that punk.”

“He’s got guts,” Derek muttered to himself.

“Sir, you’re wounded,” Boyd said, frowning. He took out his phone. “Get me a medical team. Boss is wounded.”

Derek didn’t even look at his bleeding shoulder but he could feel the bullet embedded in there. His usually passive face turned into an amused grin.

“Sir, let’s go. We need to get you treated.”

“Don’t worry so much, Boyd,” Derek said, patting the male on the shoulder. “I’m fine.”

The walk down to the first floor took a lot longer than their fast-paced ascent earlier and by the time they touched down, the shoulder of Derek’s suit was soaked. A car was waiting in front of the building and a woman flew out of the passenger seat.

“Oh, for god’s sake.” She frowned. “What happened?”

“Gunshot to the shoulder,” Derek said as she pushed him to lean by the side of the car and did a visual check-up. “Kid shot me point blank.”

“Point blank?” Her anger grew.

“It’s not like the boss could have avoided it, Lydia,” Isaac said. He cringed when she turned her venomous glare on him.

Lydia turned back to Derek. “You could have at least removed the damn bullet, Derek.”

“I’d rather you do it, you do a much cleaner job, Lyds,” Derek said.

Without any hesitation, Lydia grabbed a knife from her pocket and then tore open Derek’s suit. She surveyed the wound for a second before grabbing a first-aid kit from the car.

“Can’t we at least do this back home?” Derek asked, sighing at his torn polo. He wasn’t embarrassed about being half-naked in public. He was used to it. But he was tired.

“No. Now, before you bleed even further.” Lydia put on her gloves and grabbed her supplies. “Not to mention I will kill you if you bleed on the new car.”

Derek turned to the man as Lydia treated his shoulder. Isaac was watching her work, face taking on an unsightly green color as she disinfected his wound.

Derek tossed the film canister towards Boyd, who caught it smoothly. He popped it open and a large ring fell on his palm. It was a circular band violet in color with gold trim and dotted with diamonds.

“Make sure it’s transported to the client within the hour,” Derek said. Boyd nodded and walked off, barking orders at the other men.

“I wonder why you even had to give chase, Der,” Isaac said, voice turning more informal as they all relaxed. “You could have just had us sniped him.”

“I needed the exercise,” Derek said, smirking.

“Exercise my ass,” Lydia muttered, holding a pair of forceps and about to plunge inside Derek’s bullet wound. “Now shut up for a goddamn moment.”

Derek indeed shut up, looking away as Lydia reached inside his shoulder. He cringed. He was used to far worse injuries but the sensation still made him feel uncomfortable. A bit of searching around and Lydia managed to pull out the silver bullet.

“Point blank range,” Lydia muttered. “That kid is sure as hell lucky he’s still alive.” She dropped the bloody bullet on Derek’s hand and patched up his wound, skilled fingers working quickly. “I’ll stitch this up when we get back to base.”

“Thanks,” Derek said.

“You had all the chances to shoot him. I bet even he knows that,” Lydia said as she packed away her supplies. “Any reason you kept him alive, Derek?”

Derek looked at the bloody bullet, turning it over and over in his fingers.

“It’s been years since I’ve had that kind of fun,” Derek said, grinning. “The thrill of the chase…”

Derek slipped his arms through the extra suit jacket Isaac held out for him. He grinned.

“I wouldn’t mind playing this game.”

* * *

Stiles was part of Blackstar Inc., a thieves-for-hire group owned and funded in secret by Cassandra Ennis, a bored billionaire in her mid-thirties with dyed-blue hair and tattooed skin. Her parents were long gone and her sister was a lawyer who was gunned down after a couple of high rollers didn’t want her poking in their illegal transactions. Cass never got the culprits jailed and in some way she wanted to get even, hence her little underground project.

Blackstar Inc. had eight members so far: Cass, their boss, Willow, their manager, Allison and Stiles the team’s master thieves and escape artists, Scott and Erica, their support team, Rusty, hacker extraordinaire, and Deaton, their on-call veterinarian-slash-doctor.

Cass was the one who find them jobs and Willow was the one who vetoes which ones they could handle. Money, jewelries, land titles and certificates, anything tangible, they stole it back. But Cass and Blackstar Inc. made sure to only work for decent clients who had good reasons to employ them. And more often than not, their reason was because they were bullied by the rich, notorious, and the more powerful.

For the past two years, Blackstar Inc. had become a small but strong force to be reckoned with. The motherfuckers could try and report them, but even the police seemed relieved someone was willing to tip the scales to the good side, so no one was willing to arrest Blackstar Inc. anyway.

“Please, please, please, Will!” Stiles pleaded, hands clasped in front of him and shooting his best puppy-dog look at Willow. “I’m fine! My ankle’s healed! Please send me back out!”

“It’s not a matter of you being injured,” Willow said, sighing. “It’s that I don’t want you to.”

“Why not?” Stiles pouted. “I mean, I know I fucked up at my assignment a few days ago but if it wasn’t for that Hale guy-”

“There, see. That’s exactly why we don’t want you going out for now,” Scott spoke up from his spot on the couch with Allison.

Stiles glared at his best friend. “Traitor!”

“You’re our best talent, Stiles,” Allison said. “And everyone knows you’re the king of luck. I mean, look at what happened a few days back. You could have gotten killed but you managed to get away with just a banged-up ankle and you managed to shoot the guy. If that’s not luck, I don’t know what is.”

“…but?” Stiles prompted, frowning.

“But for some reason, your luck ran out that same way,” Willow said. “Of all the people you could have encountered, it had to be Derek Hale. That right there is not lucky.”

As it turned out, his pursuer was none other than Derek Hale of the infamous Hale family.

The Hale family was one of the most powerful families in the criminal underworld, an astounding feat considering they established themselves only four years ago. They rose through the ranks in the blink of an eye thanks to the commandeering of the Hale Family leader, Derek Hale.

Nobody knew much about them or where they came from. Even Rusty, their team’s resident techie, could only dig in so much before they risked getting the attention of the Hales the way the Sagerson family did. Apparently the Hales had an excellent computer specialist on their team and when the Sagersons looked too deep, they were harshly warned to back off.

Rusty clucked his tongue against his teeth. He didn’t even look up from where he was tinkering with a disassembled laptop on the floor. “I bet everything I own, which isn’t much, that the entire Hale army already has you ID-ed for shooting Derek, Stiles. You better lay low for a while.”

While Stiles can understand his team’s concern, he didn’t believe in backing down no matter who the enemy was, even if it was Derek Hale himself.

“Aww, come on,” he said. “I’ll be careful, I swear!”

“No. I don’t want you going out there so soon,” Willow said, glaring at him. “Lay low for a while and then you can go back out.”

“Buw Will!” Stiles kept on whining.

Scott sighed. “Stiles, she said no and that means no. Come on, bud. Think of this as a day off.”

“Day offs suck!” Stiles shouted.

There was a ‘ding’ and everyone turned to the laptop perched on Rusty’s table. Rusty immediately got up and planted himself in front of the screen. A window appeared and text streamed down the screen.

“It’s Erica. We have action on Downing Square,” Rusty said, eyes darting back and forth as he read. “Nothing dangerous but she thinks we’ll need a scope.”

Willow nodded. “Ok, then, Allison. Suit up and–”

Stiles was already out the door.

“Stilinski!”

But it was no use, Stiles was gone.

* * *

Stiles looked around as he walked around Downing Square. It was one of the more popular downtown hangouts, with a lot of food stalls, skaters, dancers, musicians and families and friends coming and going. But Downing Square was also known for being a neutral territory for meetings between families and members of the criminal underworld.

Stiles stayed on full alert as he skated from one end of the park to another, his roller blades click-clacking on the pavement. He was wearing a cap, large glasses, and was in a baggy shirt and low-rise shorts, similar to most teenagers around. He kept his eyes peeled for anything unusual.

Stiles skated around a crack on the pavement and looked around. So far, there was nothing unusual happening.

_“Stiles?”_

Stiles skidded to a stop under a tree. He tuned in to the earpiece disguised as a small hoop earring in his left ear.

“Erica?”

_“I thought it was Allison on duty today.”_

“Nope. I took over.”

Erica laughed. _“Will is gonna fry your ass when we get back. You’re supposed to be resting after last week.”_

Stiles grinned. “Have you ever known me to rest? I can do that when I’m either fifty or dead.”

 _“I agree.”_ Erica huffed in amusement. _“Sight?”_

Stiles raised a hand, pretending to scratch his brow before forming a Y with his fingers.

_“Letter Y. I see you.”_

They always made sure one member of the team had back-up but they are almost always never informed of their back-up’s position. In case the bait was caught, it kept the other team members safe from being discovered. The back-up was then responsible for making sure the bait is retrieved. They always made sure no one gets left behind.

“So, what’s going down?” Stiles sat down on a bench, a bit tired from skating. He kept his eyes peeled beneath his sunglasses.

According to Erica, messengers for the Kingston and Russo family were going to meet here to exchange information on something. While Blackstar Inc. usually stole the tangible, they sometimes stole information on targets Cass and their clients wanted them to tail. In this case, Cass wanted to do the police a favor. The Kingston family was ‘rumored’ to smuggle expensive goods from the black market, while it was practically no secret at all that the Russo family dealt with drugs.

Downing Square was where exchanges were made. And their messengers were usually made to look normal so as not to cause any suspicion. So far they knew the messenger from the Kingstons, but not the one from the Russos.

Stiles stood up. “I’ll look around.”

 _“I’ll scan the perimeter,”_ Erica said. _“I’ll warn you if you move out of my line of sight.”_

Stiles skated off, weaving his way easily around people. He looked around. Nothing popped out as unusual or noteworthy and he hadn’t seen their target yet. He frowned, pushing his sunglasses higher up his nose.

He skated around the circular fountain in the middle of the venue and headed down another path. There were a lot of people in the park and he took to observing them all as much as he could, looking for telltale signs. Anyone could be a Family member, man, woman, teenager, he had to be alert. The only consolation that could be gotten from this situation was that this was civilian territory so he was somewhat sure no one would pull a gun on him.

Stiles paused, suddenly realizing he was way off the usual path and was nearing the edge of the small park.

“Erica, am I still in range?” he asked, only then noticing how quiet his companion had been.

There was no answer.

He skidded to a stop at the edge of the curb, trying to control his slowly rising panic.

“Erica?”

He didn’t notice the black unmarked Rolls Royce that parked near him.

“Erica? Erica, answer me if you hear me?”

The sound of car doors closing made Stiles look up. Two men in suits were hurrying towards him. He made to run but it was too late and they easily grabbed him, his rollerblades scratching against the pavement as they dragged him to the car.

Stiles didn’t even have time to scream when he was pushed inside roughly, landing on the carpeted floor with a thud. He was running his mouth off even before he knew who took him.

“Hey! What’s the big idea? I haven’t done any-” He looked up.

“Nice seeing you again, Stiles.”

With a start, Stiles threw himself backwards until his back hit the door. He didn’t bother trying it out. He knew it was locked.

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

Derek chuckled, low and dangerous. “Back then you had the nerve to stick your tongue out at me and now you can’t even talk.”

Stiles glared at him but kept quiet. He knew it won’t do him good to say anything.

Until he realized something.

“You took her, didn’t you? You took Erica.”

Derek didn’t even look sorry. He tapped his fingers on his crossed legs. “She’s quite feisty, same as you.”

Stiles noticed him shift a little, taking weight off his left shoulder. “If this is about me shooting you, then fine. You got me. Now let Erica go.”

The response was what he expected.

“No.” Derek shrugged.

Stiles kept his back to the door, all too aware of the gun his captor had on his holster. The next thing he knew two pictures were thrown towards him. He looked at Derek suspiciously before looking at it.

The first was a picture of a woman seated at a café. She had long and dark curly hair. She was wearing sunglasses that hid most of her face, but a distinct tattoo was on the left side of her neck right at the junction of her jaw below her ear. The other picture was a man exiting a building. He looked young, younger than Stiles, and was wearing sunglasses and a red bomber jacket.

Derek then tossed him another picture, one of their target. There was a red X-mark drawn over his face.

“The Kingston family changed messengers. That one is not going to come. The first two are who you’re looking for,” Derek said. “The woman is a secretary from the Russo family and the college kid’s a new messenger of the Kingstons. They are meeting here to exchange a name.”

“A… name?” Stiles repeated, looking at the pictures closely. “What name? What’s it for?”

“You don’t have to know all that,” Derek said, waving a hand. “Just get me the name.”

“Why are you helping me?” Stiles asked.

Derek scoffed. “I am not helping you. For one thing, you owe me. I can’t handle a gun because of your hasty shot. And I don’t want to waste men when I can very well have you do it for me.”

Stiles glared at him. “What makes you think I’ll work for you?!”

Derek snapped open his phone and pressed a button. “Put her on.”

Immediately Erica’s voice came in on speaker.

_“Stiles! Stiles, I’m sorry! I-”_

“That is the reason why you will help me.” Derek cut the call. “I need to know what that name is.”

Stiles frowned. He obviously didn’t have much of a choice. If he didn’t help, they’d get both him and Erica. If he helped, well, he wouldn’t trust these mafia freaks as far as he could throw them. He might have a chance of escaping them, but he would have to leave Erica if anything happened.

What was the use of choosing between the lesser of two evils when both ways still end in someone’s death?

Never before had he loathed any man more than this one in front of him.

Fucking Derek Hale.

Derek smirked at him, already knowing Stiles’ answer.

“I knew I could count on you.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Like you said, I’m a businessman, Stiles. Let’s trade for it,” Derek said patiently. “You give me the address I want and I’m amenable to any payment you require in exchange.”
> 
> “Anything?” Stiles snorted. “What, like money? Jewels? Cars? Guns?”
> 
> “Sex?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some manhandling courtesy of Derek and mildly dubious consent in kissing, if that's what it's called. Just a teeny bit.

Stiles frowned as he felt the gun heavy and imposing tucked into his belt. He knew how to handle a gun but he never carried one with him. Daggers and other pointy things, sure. Even mini-bombs and tasers and mace. But never a gun. He wasn’t stupid and if he had to, he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot someone who wanted to kill him, but he hated the idea of shooting someone to death intentionally.

He skated down the park. He was geared up in his disguise, a cap, large glasses, and his baggy shirt and low-rise shorts. He made a wide turn, avoiding a crowd of children running around. He reached the bottom of a large tree and stopped there, trying to look inconspicuous as he sat down on a bench.

“I’m in position, you bastard,” he whispered to the comm concealed in his cap.

_“Good. I have three men on the road. You’re covered.”_

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles muttered. “Tell them to point their guns the other way.”

He could almost see the damned man’s smirk.

_“Do a good job and I’ll let your precious Erica go.”_

“You better do good on that promise,” Stiles said, gritting his teeth, knowing there was a slim chance of that.

Stiles looked around behind his thick glasses. Derek said he had three men around and prior to letting Stiles get out of the Rolls Royce, he said that he had two other men watching the perimeter, most likely the snipers. That puts it at five, but Stiles won’t put it past him to have about ten at the most.

There was no way out for Stiles, not when he was being watched. He also won’t put it past that man not to have one of his men train a sniper gun at his back just in case.

Still, Stiles could find some way to escape. It was challenging but possible. He knew the area, had checked out every possible escape route before coming here in the first place, plus there were civilians around. He had already mapped out about five different ways to escape. But he couldn’t and wouldn’t run off and leave Erica to her death. He wasn’t that kind of man.

There was a crackle and the Derek’s voice came in. _“Here’s a little motivation for you to do a good job. Fountain.”_

Stiles looked up. There was Erica, seated by the edge of the fountain. The girl was wearing dark sunglasses with her blonde hair tucked into a large newsboy cap but he was absolutely sure that was her. She was frowning and Stiles knew she was looking his way.

“You’ve got a sniper on her, haven’t you?” Stiles deadpanned at the mic.

As if to prove his point, a red dot appeared on Erica’s forehead. It blinked twice and then disappeared. Even from this distance, Stiles could see Erica wince.

“You also have one on me as well.”

Stiles held out his hand and a red dot appeared on the back of his hand. It blinked twice and disappeared as well.

 _“Smart of you to figure it out.”_ Derek laughed. _“What did you expect?”_

“I hoped you were as stupid as you look.”

 _“I am more amused than offended.”_ He could hear the man’s smirk in his words. _“You’re acting quite feisty for a prisoner.”_

“Yeah, well you-” Stiles stopped short.

A woman passed him.

He gulped. This was it.

“Target sighted,” he mumbled with the most minimal lip movement. He skated in the opposite direction before doing a U-turn and doing a trick leap. He kept an eye peeled. The woman settled down by the circular fountain a quarter of the way from where Erica was sitting, trying to appear calm and casual.

 _“By the food carts,”_ Derek said in his ear.

Stiles looked and the college kid was there, buying a hotdog as he went walking. He made a circle around the fountain and ended up a few paces from the woman.

Stiles did a turn into a backwards skate. He whistled and then pretended to stumble, landing straight beside Erica. His hand landed on her thigh.

Erica didn’t miss a beat.

_(“You seriously need to learn to watch where you’re going!” Erica laughed._

_Stiles scratched his brow with an embarrassed face. “Sorry. I can’t get the hang of that backwards skate.”)_

The boy cursed when he dropped his hotdog and tried to shake off the mustard that clung to his fingers. The woman, who was reading a newspaper, looked at him and pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket.

“Ah, thank you so much! This is perfect!”

_(Erica giggled, high-pitched and girlish. Stiles knew that was not her usual laugh._

_Stiles started taking off his roller blades.)_

“Sorry. I'm embarrassed now,” the kid said.

The woman shrugged. “Don't worry. Not a problem.”

_(“I need more practice,” Stiles said. “You didn’t get bored waiting for me, did you?”_

_Erica shook her head. “Never.”_

_Stiles leaned down, kissing Erica full on the mouth.)_

“Everything's a bit of a mess,” the kid said, wiping off his hands.

“You can wash it off at the fountain,” the woman suggested.

“But isn't that like against the law?” The kid looked at the water in confusion.

The woman shrugged. “A lot of people do it anyway. I don’t think it’ll be a problem.

“Look around just in case someone’s watching,” the kid teased.

The woman looked around.

_(Stiles tilted his head, mouth against Erica’s. Erica huffed against him, pressing lightly.)_

“Everybody’s busy,” the woman said.

The kid laughed. “You are perfect.”

 _(Erica leaned back, pecking him on the nose. “This is_ perfect _,” she said._

_“I know,” Stiles said, nuzzling against her face. He stroked the edge of the cap covering her hair. Erica nodded.)_

There was the sound of water splashing as the kid cleaned up his hands. Erica reached up, running a hand through Stiles’ hair. It dislodged his cap and the comm Derek pinned inside it. It fell straight into the fountain and bobbed in the water, soaking through everything.

“Good,” Stiles muttered.

The woman and the kid looked their way but Erica let out a soft shriek and they both grappled for it like the 'couple' they were.

“You work around here, miss?” the college kid asked.

“No,” the woman said. “I just thought I’d spend the day out.”

He nodded. “I agree. It’s a good day for a walk in the park or the perfect time to go to the harbor and take a cruise with about five hot babes and downing a dozen margaritas.” He chuckled. “Ahh, well. I could do that a week from now I guess, when I’m not so busy.”

_(“Got it,” Stiles said, scooping it up from the fountain._

_“Sorry about that, baby,” Erica cooed._

_“It’s all right,” Stiles said. “But that water’s deadly. It ruined everything.”_

_Erica pursed her lips, nodding slightly.)_

“Anyway, I should get going,” the kid said. “Thanks, miss.”

“You’re welcome,” the woman said. “Have a good day.”

The two stood up and parted ways.

“We should get back home, baby,” Erica said softly.

“Of course,” Stiles said, looking around. There was a group of kids nearby crowding around the balloon seller and a few teenagers about to pass them. “Let’s go.”

They jumped up and ran, getting lost in the crowd.

* * *

 _“They’re running for it, boss,”_ Boyd said through the phone. _“As expected.”_

Derek nodded as he watched the surveillance camera trained on the two. They had lost audio the moment Erica knocked Stiles’ cap to the water, but they still had visuals on them. The two of them were weaving their way among the crowd, keeping close to people to avoid the possibility of snipers. Not that Derek would have his team engage them. It was against their policy to attack civilians. But it was amusing that they think they would escape.

“Didn’t think they had it in them,” Isaac said from the driver’s seat, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Why are we still giving chase, boss?” Danny said from the passenger seat. “We got the name.”

“We do?” Isaac asked, confused.

“Later,” Derek said. “Isaac, keep driving. Boyd, get me the boy.”

 _“Will do, sir,”_ Boyd said.

Isaac drove on as Derek watched. Erica and Stiles managed to reach the edge of the park and headed towards the parking lot. That was where their visual surveillance cut off.

 _“They have a vehicle. We’re cornering them there,”_ Boyd said.

Derek cut the call as Isaac stopped the car. Two men immediately flanked him as he got out of the car. He walked towards the parking lot and smirked at the sight.

Stiles and Erica were leaning against a blue jeep. Stiles had his arms out, covering as much of Erica as he could. He was mouthing off at Boyd and the three other guards spread out in a semi-circle in front of him.

“If you touch one strand of hair on Erica’s head, I will kill you, you cue ball,” Stiles was growling at Boyd. Boyd was impassive in the face of the verbal assault.

“Well, this looks fun,” Derek said, smirking when Stiles rounded on him. “Honestly, Stiles, we had a deal.”

Stiles bared his teeth at him and Erica flipped him off.

“I say this was a successful mission,” Derek said. “So cough up what you know.”

Stiles hesitated for a moment before he snapped out, “Sidney Bailey. Now we’re done. Let us go.”

Derek’s eyes narrowed. “What else?”

“There’s nothing else,” Erica shouted, glaring at him.

“Don’t lie to me.” Derek stepped forward. Both of them flinched. “What else?”

“An address,” Stiles said. Erica gripped Stiles’ shirt. Stiles kept his gaze on Derek.

“Where?”

“I’m not telling,” Stiles growled out. “All we agreed on was the name, you jackass.”

Derek hummed under his breath. That was true.

“Fine then.” He turned on his heels and snapped his fingers.

Boyd’s response was immediate. “Fall back,” he barked.

“T-That’s it?” Erica whispered.

Derek didn’t bother answering that. He could still feel Stiles’ pinpoint laser gaze on his back. He got back into his car, motioning for Boyd to get in with him. Isaac immediately pulled out.

“Home, Isaac,” Derek said. Isaac nodded.

“How did we get the name, though?” Isaac asked, confused. “I didn’t hear anything weird.”

“They used an acrostic code,” Danny explained. “If you take the first letter of every sentence in the conversation those two had, you’d get a name: Sidney Bailey. It usually starts off with a code word both parties agreed on. Once the word is dropped, the real message starts. You drop the word again to indicate the message is over. It was relatively easy to discover since I was typing everything out.”

“That’s kinda cool,” Isaac commented.

“Stiles got the name right too, just by listening to them. Guess he’s a lot smarter than we give him credit for.” Danny grinned.

“I still don’t know why we had to pursue him, boss,” Boyd said. “You’re forgetting you’re still injured.”

Derek waved that away. His shoulder was fine.

“That kind of conversation was different because the messengers shared the message,” Derek said, tapping his knee. “If someone was meant to pass it along to the other, we only need to get the code from one person, not from both of them. They weren't here to exchange information. They’re there to confirm it. There is something else in the message, the address, something we didn’t get because the kid dropped the communicator in the water.”

Isaac winced. “That’s bad luck.”

“Danny, run a search on this Stiles,” Derek said. “I want to know who he is.”

“But how do we get the address from him?” Isaac asked.

Derek smirked. “There are other ways to get information, Isaac. Lots of other ways.”

* * *

Their boss, Cassandra Ennis was on the TV screen with her dyed-blue hair tied into a long braid, a tattoo on her neck and all over her entire left arm, and dressed only in a sports bra. She had a cigarette in one hand and was glaring at them, obviously displeased.

_“Let me confirm again. You met Derek Hale a few days ago, and then again earlier today. Why was I not informed immediately of these events?”_

Willow frowned. “I apologize, Miss. It wasn’t intentional. Derek Hale’s sudden appearance at both occasions was unexpected and we’ve been trying to get more information on him before–”

 _“Don’t bother,”_ Cass said. _“You won’t find anything substantial. Not on that man.”_ She took a drag of her cigarette, which seemed to calm her down. _“Are you ok, Erica? Stiles?”_

The two nodded.

“We’re fine, Miss,” Erica said.

Cass nodded. _“I think you handled that well considering the circumstances and you did get us a name.”_

“And location,” Stiles said.

“Rusty already confirmed it, Miss,” Allison spoke up from the couch where she was reading something on her tablet. “A delivery for the Russo family is coming in at midnight at the harbor at warehouse number five a week from today.”

 _“Good,”_ Cass said. _“But that’s not something you need to concern yourselves with. I’ll be passing it along to the police as planned and this isn’t ours to deal with now. I’ll be wrapping it up at my end.”_ She took another drag of her cigarette. _“I don’t know why Derek Hale is interested in the Russo and the Kingston deal, so I’ll have to dig a little deep for that.”_

“What is his business anyway, Miss?” Scott asked. “I know they appeared out of nowhere, but they don’t seem like the usual villains.”

Cass was quiet, as if contemplating the question. It took her a while to answer.

 _“Hale is not like the usual criminals around town,”_ she finally said. She took another drag from her cigarette. _“He has questionable clients but he’s not doing anything particularly illegal.”_

“What does that mean?” Erica asked.

_“He’s a businessman. He owns a couple of establishments around the country, a hotel, a club, a restaurant, a casino, and more. Unlike everybody else who deals with the usual run of the mill illegal endeavors, black market, drugs, smuggling, blackmail and extortion, gambling, what have you, Hale deals with people, kind of like a middleman but better. He uses his businesses as a front, people come in to do their dirty transactions and leave, and he has the sweetheart deals with knowledge of all the trade secrets, information, and dealings around here.”_

“That’s really kinda smart,” Stiles said in thought. “He can’t actually be compromised because he could shell out other people’s secrets to tip the scales to whoever he wants.”

Scott looked around at everyone. “But how could he do that? I mean, people willingly go in to have someone know all their secrets?”

“He probably sells or trades these secrets,” Rusty spoke up. “Give it up to whoever has the highest bid.”

 _“Probably,”_ Cass said. _“But that’s the thing about him. No one knows how he does it. The man’s smart. Which is why I want everyone steering clear of him. I’m not particularly sure why he is after the Russos and the Kingstons, but that’s not our business. We’re done with this.”_

Everyone nodded.

_“Again, stay away from Derek Hale, everyone. I mean it. Stay away.”_

* * *

It’s been three days but so far they didn’t have much information on Sidney Bailey. It wasn’t exactly their problem anyway. They got the info to the police as was their objective. Getting involved in those illegal businesses wasn’t in their line of work. But Stiles was curious about what was going on and there were a few more days left before the package or whatever it was came in.

Stiles was on his way home after work. He and Scott worked part time whenever they were free. Being a professional thief paid well and Cass was generous so Stiles wasn’t complaining. After all, he had a roof over his head and with five of them living in the house, he didn’t have to pay a large share. But Stiles liked the normalcy of hard labor and he liked having enough money put away just in case.

Scott had a long-standing job working at the veterinarian with Deaton. Erica and Allison worked at the bakery Willow owned. Rusty did something with electronics and hacking, something probably not-so-legal. Stiles cruised along wherever. He was currently working the register for 7-11. It wasn’t glamorous but he liked having something normal to do, especially when they were between assignments.

Stiles hummed under his breath as he walked along, thinking about what Willow was probably cooking for dinner. She didn’t live with the five of them but she always came by to cook.

To be fair, Stiles should have been more aware of his surroundings in general. He had already seen that unmarked Rolls Royce once. He should have known better. But working behind the cash register was tiring, ok? Don’t get on his case.

Stiles was grabbed and thrown inside the vehicle before he even realized what was going on.

Derek had a cigarette stick between his lips as he looked down at Stiles, who was practically kissing his shiny black shoes.

“That’s all, Boyd,” he said, and the car door closed. He waved to the driver, some guy with curly blonde hair, and the window between the front and back seat was rolled up.

They were completely alone, just the two of them.

Stiles straightened, rubbing his cheek and frowning at the possible carpet burn. “Hey, asshole, tell your big, black and burly to be gentler with the manhandling.”

“I thought you were supposed to be a master thief,” Derek said, pursing his lips and letting out the smoke. “How easy it is to steal you.”

Stiles ignored Derek’s dig and clambered up on his seat. He knew what this was about but decided to play dumb. “You want something from me?”

“Obviously,” Derek said. He took a drag on his cigarette and Stiles wrinkled his nose at the smell of smoke.

Stiles gave Derek his best glare. “Well, I’m not giving it up, ok? The sooner you get that through your thick head, the sooner I can leave.”

“Who says you’re leaving?” Derek asked, leveling him with a bored look. He seemed to be good at that. “You still have information I want.”

“Maybe, but like I said, I’m not giving it up. Never. So suck on that,” Stiles said, stretching out a little and letting his dirty sneakers mess up the carpet. He might as well appear comfortable despite the fact that his heart was beating like mad inside his chest.

Derek stubbed his cigarette on the ashtray and moved on to pouring himself some scotch, and seriously, how could pouring scotch be so fucking intimidating? Stiles could swear the man’s canines flashed threateningly in the dark.

Derek swirled his drink around his glass. “Sidney Bailey is a well-known arms dealer, wanted in seven countries. The Gunshot Goddess as they called her.”

Stiles knew all that from Rusty’s report but he made sure it didn’t show on his face. He scoffed. “That’s a fucking sad villain name, if you ask me.”

Derek chuckled, dark and deep, looking at Stiles over the rim of his scotch glass with gleaming eyes that looked almost red.

Jesus motherfucking Christ.

Stiles shifted in his seat, his back to the car door and feet ready to kick Derek’s ridiculously attractive face in. It was extremely inappropriate to find one’s captor attractive.

“Miss Bailey has her own trade route so it is unusual for her to be in this part of the country,” Derek said, his tone conversational. “The only reason she would drop by is if she has a delivery to make. And I need you to tell me where it’s going to happen.”

Stiles scoffed. “As if I’d give it up that easy.”

Derek shrugged. “We could take all night, Stiles. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”

Stiles growled under his breath. “If you’re supposed to be some businessman and dealer of trade secrets or some shit like that, then use your own sources to find out. Let me go.”

“Would you trade for it, then?” Derek asked, taking a sip of his drink.

Stiles was almost distracted by the way Derek licked his lips but he managed to snap out, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Like you said, I’m a businessman, Stiles. Let’s trade for it,” Derek said patiently. “You give me the address I want and I’m amenable to any payment you require in exchange.”

“Anything?” Stiles snorted. “What, like money? Jewels? Cars? Guns?”

“Sex?”

Stiles choked on his own spit, coughing and thumping himself on the chest. He looked at Derek wide-eyed. Derek wasn’t even looking at him, busy refilling his drink. He felt his chest tighten as his heart beat faster.

Is this guy for real?!

“If you’re seducing me just to get the address then you’re lower than low, you bastard!” Stiles growled.

Derek grinned. “I take every opportunity I’ve been given. In this case, I get an address and you get sex, something you probably don’t get much of. Won’t we both be satisfied?”

“Fuck you!” Stiles spat out, lunging at Derek, one hand fisted.

In hindsight, getting riled up and lashing out was obviously the wrong thing to do. Because Derek was fast and strong and obviously expecting it. The next thing Stiles knew, Derek caught his wrist and pulled hard and Stiles ended up sprawled over Derek’s lap.

“L-Let me go!” Stiles struggled, panic rising in him. He swung his other arm, but Derek caught it easily and smoothly shifted to hold both wrists in his one hand.

Stiles stopped, his breaths coming out in sharp and short huffs. He had no hands left and his legs were caught under him, half-splayed out across the seat and the carpeted floor. He was flexible enough but he didn’t have much leverage and space to kick Derek’s face. He tried, and he only squeaked when his hips twisted in an angle, almost hurting himself.

Derek looked down at him, calm as cucumber and amused at Stiles’ struggles.

“I-I’m still not telling you where the fucking hell it is, you asshole! And I’m not having sex with you! Let me go!” Stiles struggled. Derek’s hold on his wrists tightened. Damn, the man was strong.

Derek simply sighed and it made Stiles bristle. Derek reached out with his free hand, grabbing his glass and taking a sip. “This would be so much easier if you just give up the address, Stiles. I won’t even touch your dick no matter how much you’ll probably enjoy it. Stop making it harder for yourself.”

Stiles flushed furiously at his callous words. “As if I’ll enjoy it, you perverted bastard!”

That was obviously the wrong thing to say because Derek’s smirk turned deadly. He placed his scotch glass to one side and reached down to cup Stiles’ cheek with his large palm.

“W-What are you doing?!” Stiles glared at him, struggling. “D-Don’t touch me!”

Derek gripped his jaw firmly and Stiles was powerless as the man loomed over him and pressed his mouth to his. Stiles kept his mouth shut tight against the other man’s lips. Derek smelled of bergamot and musk and gun powder and his stubble scratched against Stiles’ face.

Stiles eyes widened when he felt what could only be Derek’s tongue lick along the seam of his lips. He started struggling even as Derek’s grip around his wrists and his jaw tightened and Derek's mouth pressed against his even more, tongue licking insistently against his lower lip.

Derek leaned back, lips shiny and wet and his eyes dark. He clucked his tongue against his teeth.

“W-Why are you doing this?!” Stiles shouted at the top of his lungs.

“It’s just a kiss,” Derek said, shrugging.

“I’m a guy, you moron!” Stiles glared at him. If the world was fair, Hale would drop dead on the spot right now.

“And that is supposed to dissuade me… how?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow. He reached over for more scotch.

Stiles unconsciously licked his lips, wincing when he tasted the tang of scotch. Derek saw it, and smirked knowingly.

“F-Fuck you! Let me go! This is harassment!” Stiles shouted.

Derek stroked a finger against Stiles’ cheek. Stiles froze in the spot, tired and more than a bit scared at what was happening and how he had lost control so quickly.

“You have a lot of moles,” Derek suddenly said, as if contemplating them. Stiles could feel him trace a pattern from his jaw to his neck and fought back a shiver. “Interesting.”

Derek’s fingers traveled from his neck to his collarbone, having the nerve to push aside the fabric a little to see more. Stiles’ breath hitched but Derek paid it no mind. Derek’s fingers skated back up his neck, past his Adam’s apple, until he tilted Stiles’ head back. Stiles glared at him. He was tired, angry, and hurting at the tight grip around his wrists.

Derek leaned down and Stiles kept his mouth shut tight, but Derek bypassed his lips, going straight for his neck. Stiles couldn’t help jolting in surprise at the hot breath that fanned across his neck. Derek’s stubble was scratchy against the sensitive skin and the sensation made Stiles tremble a little.

“Hm, interesting,” Derek muttered and Stiles had to bite his lips to stop the soft groan that almost slipped out.

What the fuck was happening?!

As soon as he thought of that, Derek let go.

As in he literally let go of Stiles’ wrists and went back to pouring himself more scotch.

Stiles was so shocked, he lied there, his upper body on Derek’s lap.

“You can go now,” Derek said.

That got Stiles out of his stupor and he scrambled away, pressing himself against the door and wiping his mouth and clawing at his neck as if it would stop his brain from remembering the sensation of Derek’s face and lips and breath.

Stiles gaped at him. “A-Are you for real?! W-What the fuck was all this about?!”

“The chance to rile you up. Consider it payback for shooting me.” Derek motioned to the door. “Feel free to get out. No one will stop you.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” Stiles shouted at him, his face heating up.

Derek already seemed bored and it was making Stiles spitting mad. How dare he?! How dare he just… just do what he wanted?!

“You know what I think?” Stiles spat out. “I think you and your criminal cronies are nothing but idiots running around chasing bullets and killing people! You’re heartless! You have no conscience! No sense of honor and decency!”

Instead of being offended like Stiles expected, Derek simply shook his head. “I find it funny, your opinion of my family. You don’t know us. Who are you to judge?”

“Well, who are you to judge me?! To… To do this and… and think I want it and… and…”

“It was just a kiss, some fake intimacy,” Derek said with an amused huff. “You have to start wising up, Stiles, between what’s real and what’s not.”

“So that kiss was fake? Is that it?” Stiles asked, eyes narrowing.

“Of course,” Derek said. He rubbed at his shoulder, the injured one, and settled on his seat. “Anyway, please get out. I have a schedule to keep.”

Stiles sat there, a bit stunned. He felt… cheated.

“You’re a fucking asshole.”

Derek sighed. “So you keep saying.”

Stiles grabbed him by the collar with a growl and pressed his lips against the man’s. It was like he was transmitting all his anger in the worst way because this wasn’t a kiss. This was the worst not-kiss ever, a messy mesh of lips and saliva and teeth. No feelings at all, except unbridled anger.

Stiles leaned back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He grabbed the scotch glass from Derek’s slack hand and drank it down before he threw open the door and tossed the glass out on the street, startling Boyd.

Stiles looked back over his shoulder. Derek still looked a bit stunned. “Don’t go thinking you can use me for anything again, whether it’s a kiss or a fuck or for you twisted amusement.”

Stiles jumped out of the car and ran off.

* * *

When Friday arrived, Cass issued a lockdown that had all the members of Blackstar Inc. staying in at the house. Even Deaton was there for once, stitching up Allison’s thigh after her job earlier that day to steal the bank account details of a rich heiress who was squandering money from her clients. Scott was hovering over her, worried. Stiles was doing Sudoku. Willow was fiddling with her guns. Rusty was monitoring everything on his computers and the police radio.

At a quarter past one, when they were all still awake and watching a movie, Cass rang them up. Willow paused the movie they were watching, bringing their boss up on the screen.

Cass was frowning. Her long blue hair was out of its usual braid and fell in waves around her shoulders. She was in a white polo shirt. They didn’t always know what their boss was up to and it wasn’t their place to ask, but Stiles couldn’t help wondering just what Cass did when she wasn’t finding clients for them or playing up her billionaire image.

 _“I have received confirmation from a contact of mine at the police station,”_ Cass said. _“The delivery by Sidney Bailey, the Gunshot Goddess, was intercepted by the police. Bailey’s caught and some of the lackeys of the Russo family were gunned down.”_

“That’s good to hear,” Deaton said, his voice calm and patient as ever. “Obviously a job well done for everyone.”

“Good. That means it’s not our problem anymore,” Willow said.

 _“Yes, it’s not,”_ Cass said. _“There’s nothing of interest in this deal anymore. We’re putting all this behind us. Team, I’ll have your next assignment in two days.”_

Everyone gave their greetings and Cass signed off.

When Stiles got in for his shift at 7-11 the next day, he got a phone call from Rusty.

_“They’re investigating the Russo family, which is good. But there are discrepancies between Sidney Bailey’s reports and the weapons retrieved.”_

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked, waving to the manager and then heading to the back to his employee’s area.

_“It turns out about a quarter of the weapons are missing. That’s like massive enough firepower for whoever stole it. They said that someone got to Sidney before she even touched base here.”_

“What?” Stiles asked, eyes wide as he twisted the dial in the lock. “That’s bad news. If any one of the families around here got a hold of that, people are dead.”

 _“I know,”_ Rusty said. _“Miss Cass said it’s not a priority. It’s not within our line of work anyway.”_

“Miss is right,” Stiles said. “Let the police handle it. We don’t get involved in shit like that.”

Stiles paused and frowned at a cream-colored envelope he found inside his locker.

“Later, Rusty,” Stiles said. “I gotta get to work. Call you later.”

Stiles cut the call and grabbed it. It was unmarked at the outside but it was a bit heavy so he opened it.

Inside was a bullet.

Stiles’ eyes widened. He pulled out the accompanying note.

_“As you said, I’m a dealer of trade secrets and_   
_I could use my sources to find out what I want._   
_So I did.”_

It was signed with a triskelion, the Hale mark.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A trade then, if you’re willing,” Derek said.
> 
> Stiles scoffed. “If I’m not? Are you going to,” he paused, gulping a little, “kiss me again?”
> 
> Derek shrugged but Stiles saw that flicker in his eyes. “Maybe. Are you going to chance it?”
> 
> Stiles licked his lips, his face flushing when Derek blatantly traced the motion with his eyes.

Derek was in his office looking through paperwork. He still had his various businesses to take care of apart from the many clientele he needed to keep happy and the numerous delicate dealings he had to handle personally.

There was a knock from the door before it opened unceremoniously. Derek already knew who it was.

“Yes, Lydia?”

Lydia walked in, her heels click-clacking on the floor. “Got some files and papers for you to sign. And I brought dinner which I am going to watch you eat because we both know you won’t touch it unless poked and prodded to.”

Derek looked up at her and while he’s seen her do it many times before, he was impressed with the way she juggled a tray of food and a pile of papers easily. She placed the tray on a table beside Derek and then the files by Derek’s elbow.

“Thank you. I’d be lost without you,” he said.

“Of course, you would,” Lydia said, grinning. She took off the tray cover to reveal plates of food and two mugs. She took one, sipping it with a pleased hum, and then started getting the plates out for Derek.

Derek took the papers and thumbed through them. Business. Business. And more business. Imagine that. Derek and his team were relatively new to this part of the city, only here due to business transactions so he had a lot of things to deal with while establishing his new territory.

Lydia turned Derek’s desk chair around to face the side table, making Derek grunt in slight irritation, before handing him his mug.

“Dinner, first,” she said.

Derek sighed and placed the files to the side, reading as he ate. Lydia leaned back on the wall-high glass windows looking out at the scenery of the city nightlife. Lydia was humming which meant she was pleased. Derek was always glad when his team was relaxed and in good spirits.

“How were the talks today?” Derek asked as he ate.

Lydia scrunched up her nose. “As always, Jackson’s willing to accept the deal but he’s being anal about the fine print. We’ll probably get his list of complaints tomorrow.”

“I see, but it doesn’t sound like you found it much of a hardship to deal with him.” Derek hid a grin by wiping at his mouth.

“If you go there, I will hurt you.” Lydia rounded on him, glaring. “I do not like him.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Derek said, continuing on with his dinner.

“Fine then, let’s talk about you and your new boy toy.” Lydia smirked.

Derek loved her, but he hated her evil streak.

“He is not my boy toy,” he protested immediately.

Lydia scoffed. “Sure, he’s not. Which was why you had to personally go and rile him up and have Danny get info about him.” She reached over and plucked a folder on his table labeled _‘G. Stilinski’_.

Lydia didn’t say anything else as she read the contents. Derek continued eating, deep in thought.

> Name: Genim Stilinski  
>  Age: 19 years  
>  Birthdate: xx-xx-xxxx  
>  Address: Beacon Hills, California  
>  Family: John Stilinski – father (deceased) / Claudia Stilinski – mother (deceased)  
>  **STATUS: DECEASED**

Stiles, or rather Genim’s mother died of cancer when he was very young. His father followed a few years later, the Sheriff of Beacon Hills who was gunned down at a shootout gone wrong. Genim, who was only sixteen at the time, disappeared a week later. No one knew where he ran off to and while Beacon Hills issued a search for him, the loss of their Sheriff left them with more difficult matters to handle. Obviously they decided to just assume he was dead.

“Pretty morbid history,” Lydia commented, putting the folder back on the table. “He’s a kindred spirit, I see.”

Most of Derek’s subordinates were orphans or close to the sort, from sunshine-personified Isaac to stern and strict Boyd to calm expert hacker Danny to genius but disowned Lydia, all the way to their leader Derek himself.

Derek finished his dinner while Lydia placed her empty mug back on the tray. She was in a sleeveless polo shirt and he could see the triskelion curled around her left bicep.

“Get some rest, Lydia,” Derek said instead. “Big day tomorrow.”

“I know,” Lydia said, putting everything back into the tray and leaving Derek with his mug. “You too. I’ll check your shoulder in the morning.” She smiled at him and turned down the lights when she walked out of the room.

Derek sipped his mug of warm drink, turning to the city spread out below. He reached over for Stiles’ folder, scanning through the contents.

He wasn’t quite sure why he was so interested in the boy. At first, he just wanted to know about the thief that slipped through his fingers during their first encounter. But after getting more information about him, Derek’s interest was piqued.

A few months after Stiles disappearance from Beacon Hills, he arrived in the city joined by his best friend Scott McCall. They were taken in by Willow Yang, late twenties and ran her own bakery. Looking deeper though and Miss Yang was also the manager of the underground thieves-for-hire group called Blackstar Inc. Apparently, they were something of a well-known secret around the city and the police didn’t bother arresting them because they catered to decent clientele and occasionally end up helping the cops. Also, they were funded by a woman named Cassandra Ennis.

Cassandra Ennis.

He made a mental note to get Danny to look into that.

Derek scanned the info on Blackstar Inc.’s members. Some of them were interesting enough.

> Name: Willow Yang  
>  Age: 27 years  
>  Birthdate: xx-xx-xxxx  
>  Address: Trenton, New Jersey  
>  Family: Sonny Yang – father (deceased) / Arthur Jacobs – stepfather / Melissa Jacobs – mother  
>  **STATUS: ALIVE**

Willow Yang moved to the city and came into Cassandra Ennis’s employ as Blackstar Inc.’s manager after breaking off her engagement a few years back. Her life story was relatively tame compared to the teens under her care.

> Name: Scott McCall  
>  Age: 19 years  
>  Birthdate: xx-xx-xxxx  
>  Address: Beacon Hills, California  
>  Family: Rafael McCall – father / Melissa McCall – mother  
>  **STATUS: MISSING**

Scott wasn’t presumed dead, similar to Stiles, probably because both parents were still living despite the fact that he was estranged from his nurse mother who reunited with his father after living apart for a few years.

> Name: Erica Reyes  
>  Age: 18 years  
>  Birthdate: xx-xx-xxxx  
>  Address: Reddington, San Francisco  
>  Family: Orlando Reyes – father (detained) / Maryanne Reyes – mother / Trevor Reyes – younger brother (deceased)  
>  **STATUS: MISSING**

Erica’s family suffered from domestic abuse at the hands of the father. Her mother refused to fight back or report it to the police even after her husband ended up killing her youngest child out of drunken rage. Erica reported her father and ran away from home after his sentencing.

> Name: Theodore ‘Rusty’ Young  
>  Age: 22 years  
>  Birthdate: xx-xx-xxxx  
>  Address: Boston, Massachusetts  
>  Parents: Samuel Young – father / Felicity Young – mother / Megan Young – older sister / Lillian Young – younger sister / Francis Young – younger brother  
>  **STATUS: EMANCIPATED**

Rusty was an interesting case. He came from an upper class family and he hadn’t suffered from any abuse, deaths, or the like. He had a good life but he filed for emancipation the moment he could. Apparently he’s been running his own online computer business for years. It was probably not-quite-legal, though the guy has never been arrested or implicated.

> Name: Allison Reed  
>  Age: 20 years  
>  Birthdate: xx-xx-xxxx  
>  Address: *unknown*  
>  Parents: *unknown*  
>  **STATUS: MISSING**

Allison was interesting because even Danny wasn’t able to get info on her. That meant something.

Derek leaned back on his seat. For all his interest, he wasn’t here to deal with Blackstar Inc. He had his own goals in mind which needed his constant attention and his undivided focus.

But…

Derek licked his lips. He already had a taste. It probably wouldn’t hurt keeping his eyes peeled for them, for Genim.

* * *

Stiles didn’t tell anybody about what happened between him and Derek or about the bullet Derek sent him. He didn’t know why. But he had a feeling it would cause more trouble around HQ and he didn’t want Cass finding out. She seemed to find the idea of Derek Hale displeasing.

He was on an assignment a week after that, sneaking into a jewelry dealer’s office to steal back a family heirloom he conned out of a nice lady. The real value of the necklace was about thirteen times the price he paid her.

Allison was Stiles’ support team that night. Scott had the flu and was sneezing his lungs out and tonight was Erica’s day off. Rusty was at home but was doing one of his online hacking job for a client. He had already turned off the alarm and made sure the security cameras were on loop and then left Stiles and Allison to their work.

Stiles was in the process of looking through the man’s desk, Allison was humming some pop song in his ear.

“Fourth drawer, right?” Stiles asked his comm.

_“Yep,”_ Allison said, popping the ‘p’. _“And we already checked, so no alarms there. Any requests? I’m about to hit my high notes here.”_

“Go for some alternative rock,” Stiles said. “I’m not one for bubblegum pop.”

As Allison started humming, Stiles scanned the drawers. He got to the fourth and grabbed his lockpick kit from his beltbag. He got it open within a flash and easily located the case. He popped it open and whistled at the necklace.

“Damn, that is gorgeous,” Stiles said, stroking the necklace, all pretty and large jewels as big as his thumbnail. He made to close the drawer when he noticed some contracts. He leafed through them. “Hey, Alli, do you remember a Dan Forrester? The name’s pretty familiar.”

_“He was my assignment, the one whose daughter’s dog got stolen. Purebred show dog,”_ Allison replied. _“The dog died though. Why’d you ask?”_

“The Forrester dog was not a purebred,” Stiles said, looking at what was written. “Not if this certificate is to be believed.”

_“What do you mean?”_ Allison asked.

“The jewelry dealer’s got papers in here about the dog,” Stiles said, tapping his lip with a gloved finger. “Not as purebred as we thought, considering the Forresters are famous animal trainers.”

_“Yeah, they get awards at equestrian games, dog shows, cat shows, beauty contests, and they have racehorses, and win cockfights and hunting games. They’re like pet-owners-slash-competition-trainers royalty,”_ Allison said.

Stiles hummed under his breath. “Imagine what happens if this gets leaked.”

_“Ooh, lovely,”_ Allison said, grinning _. “Get it. We can have Cass decide what to do with it.”_

“Gotcha on that, woman,” Stiles said, pocketing everything in his beltbag. He closed the drawer and after one last check-up on everything, he grinned in satisfaction, put his ski mask on, and started making his way out.

Which was exactly the moment the door flew open, revealing a bodyguard and a flashlight.

There was silence, Stiles and the bodyguard looking at one another.

“Well, shit,” Stiles muttered.

Stiles immediately broke the stalemate, running straight for the guard. The guard was shocked and he went down easily when Stiles elbowed him in the gut.

_“Stiles?!”_ Allison asked.

Stiles didn’t answer her and kept running down the hall. Before he even reached the end, there was gunfire and he crouched down instinctively, rounding the corner just in time.

_“You remember the plan, right? Head to the west wing, second floor,”_ Allison said. _“Break a window and cross the overhang. You can drop down by the back garden. I’ll be waiting on the other side.”_

“Got it,” Stiles said, wincing when he heard running footsteps. “Do you have a visual?”

There was typing at Allison’s end. _“We have three guards headed your way. That’s all I can see so far. But they’re pretty far off so you still have time.”_

“Damn.” Stiles ran faster. He found the stairs and headed up. He cursed when he heard someone shouting from below him and jumped up at a gunshot. He wasn’t hit, which was good, and finally got to the top. He grabbed a gun from his belt and shot a window at the end of the hall as he ran. He tossed himself through the glass, dropping to a body roll and landing on the overhanging roof neatly.

Stiles shrugged off the glass and then ran, heading for the garden wall. He ran up the wall and got a hold on the end, shimmying over it easily, more than an expert at basic parkour tricks.

He looked around but there was no sign of the getaway vehicle.

There was a gunshot and Stiles yelped, looking back to see two guards having followed his path and were now shooting at him from the end of the overhang.

Stiles tossed himself off the edge, landing on his feet.

Next thing he knew, there was a familiar Rolls Royce by the walk. When the door opened, he threw himself inside and closed the door. The car drove off.

Stiles ignored the figure beside him and grabbed his comm. He tugged off his ski mask. It’s not as if Derek didn’t know who he was picking up.

“Stat?” he asked.

Allison was cursing. _“Fucking roadblocks on 7th Avenue! I’m stuck and can’t back up! Shit! Where are you?”_

“I hitched a ride,” Stiles said.

_“You ok?”_ Allison asked, sighing in relief.

Stiles finally deigned to looked at Derek, who was busy texting. He didn’t even spare Stiles a glance but he knew the man was listening. He looked back outside. They were passing by Highmore Street and stuck in traffic.

“I’m good but the ride’s gonna take a while and passing by Highmore Street. I’ll lay low and make my way back to HQ in an hour or so.”

_“I’ll pick you up!”_

Stiles shook his head. “Can’t risk it, kid. They’re probably scouring the streets. Lay low. And ditch the getaway. I’ll be home in an hour.”

Allison sighed. They’ve been in situations like this before, having to find another way to escape the scene and then blending with civilians before detouring home.

Allison merely said, _“Ok then. Contact me if anything happens. I’ll stay on the streets for a while.”_

“Will do,” Stiles said, cutting the call. As soon as he’s tucked his earpiece and ski mask in his belt bag, he found a can thrust into his hand.

“Cola?” Derek asked, his phone gone and his attention focused on Stiles.

Derek was as attractive as ever with his deep green eyes and beard and suit. He looked a bit more casual than before though, his hair standing on end, his tie nowhere in sight, and the top buttons of his shirt unbuttoned.

Stiles dragged his gaze away from the man and looked at the fizzy cola in his hand, his favorite brand too, and then back at Derek.

“It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re thinking.” As if to emphasize his point, Derek grabbed the can back and took a sip before handing it back to Stiles.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at him, watching Derek pour himself some sparkling water – and what even is that thing anyway? Water is water, sparkling or not – and then sip it.

Stiles made a show of wiping the lip of the can and then taking a large gulp. Much as he hated the man, he was not about to waste good fizzy cola.

They sat in silence for a bit, sipping their drinks. Stiles looked outside and could see them pass familiar buildings the city park. For the most part though, they were still stuck in traffic. For all his present company being a stranger, a dangerous, powerful, and attractive stranger, Stiles felt a calm settle over it, his usually erratic brain quieting down.

“Hey, Derek, do you know Daniel Forrester the Third?” Stiles asked before he could stop himself.

Derek’s face scrunched up in thought. Stiles watched him, like he was flicking through files in his head. “We are not acquaintances but I know a fair bit about him. Why do you ask?” he asked, voice a deep rumble that calmed Stiles a little more.

“We did a case for him months ago, something about saving his dog – a purebred thing for dog shows, you know how rich people like that – and he’s always seemed like a shady dude to me,” Stiles said, frowning and fiddling with his beltbag. He wasn’t sure what he was saying, and why to Derek of all people, but now that he started, he couldn’t stop.

“But it was his daughter’s dog that was taken, seven-year-old cutie pie who practically begged us to get her shar pei back. Our cover was some sort of pet detective agency, and we were glad to help her. The dog got put down two days after we got him though, something about an infection.” Stiles sipped his soda. “I prefer thinking our client’s the kid, not the dad. Dad gave me the creeps.”

“The Forrester family is not as lawful as they appear,” Derek said, tapping his glass against his knee. “They’re what you call a copycat family. They specialize in forgeries of certificates, signatures, jewelry, money, passports, anything you could think of.”

Stiles coughed a little from his soda. “Really? They can actually do that?!”

Derek nodded. “If there is something you want forged to perfection, they can make it happen and they make a fortune of it.”

Stiles turned to face Derek, planting his shoes on the leather seat and pulling his knees to his chest. He ignored Derek’s glare at his dirty sneakers. “Why haven’t they gotten caught yet? I mean, it’s not possible for them to be that good at forging stuff.”

“They have connections spanning across the country,” Derek answered. “And they’re very thorough. Imagine if you want an artifact verified for its authenticity and, without informing the Forrester family, you go ahead and contact an expert. Chances are that expert is already on their payroll so that when he gives you the seal of approval on the so-called legitimate item, you don’t know you’re being deceived. Not only that but they get instant blackmail material over you. They can threaten to expose your counterfeit item if you don’t do as they say.”

“That’s crazy!” Stiles said, eyes widening. “But how come they’re never caught?! I mean, come on! Even the police aren’t that stupid!”

Derek huffed out a breath and gave him a small smile. “Stiles, didn’t I tell you to start wising up? Think about it. Why aren’t they caught yet?”

Stiles frowned at him, tapping his lower lip with a finger. “Because if someone gets caught with a counterfeit item, they’re the ones in trouble because they bought it?” Derek waved a hand so Stiles thought some more. “And if the Forrester pay these experts, they can deny ever verifying the item so… it’s usually the victim who gets in trouble?”

“Well, there are a lot more logistics to it, but that’s close enough,” Derek said, giving him a look of approval.

Stiles couldn’t help the particular thrill he got from that, which he hid as he drank his soda. He wasn’t stupid, but he found it hard to wrap his head around how people could do these kinds of things, how far their web of deceit reached. It was a bit of naïve point of view. He could see why Derek kept insisting that he wised up.

“Any particular reason why you’re so interested in the Forrester family?” Derek asked. “As far as I know, he was not your client tonight.”

Stiles didn’t even bother wondering how he knew that. And before he could even debate with himself about not telling Derek, he was already saying, “We got something from that jeweler’s shop, certificates about the shar pei’s mixed heritage when–”

“When he’s supposed to be purebred,” Derek said, face deep in thought.

Stiles nodded. “Yep, and considering it’s got about dozens of show dog wins under its furry belt.”

Derek reached into a small compartment by his door and pulled out a tablet. He opened it – and Stiles frowned when he realized Derek was smart enough not to let him see the passcode – and started looking at something Stiles couldn’t see from his spot.

“There have been more than a few accusations of the Forrester forging documents of their so-called purebreds, but they haven’t been caught yet…” Derek said, as if talking to himself and not to Stiles. “The dog was cremated after it died. They said it was an infection and had to be put down–”

“Except it wasn’t an infection,” Stiles said. “The dog was poisoned.” Derek turned to him, a bit unseeing, brain obviously already whirring a mile a minute. “Vet’s report,” Stiles clarified, remembering the snippet he read from the papers he stole. “Someone looked through the dog before it was cremated. Managed to get info post-mortem.”

Derek was silent, thinking. Stiles wondered what was going on in his head. He sipped his fizzy cola in thought.

“It’s kind of confusing though. I mean, why is a jeweler of all people interested in that?

“You need to do more research, Stiles,” Derek said. He put away his tablet. “The Forrester family owns the Blue Glare, currently one of the most valuable jewels in the country.”

“So the jeweler got info on the dog to get the rock?” Stiles asked.

Derek mumbled something under his breath Stiles didn’t catch. He looked at Stiles, his green eyes turning predatory. “You have proof of this?”

Ah. Stiles knew where this was going now. “Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’.

He can practically hear the axe fall as Derek said, “I would like to have it.”

“No,” Stiles said, sipping his soda.

“Stiles.”

“No.”

“Stiles.”

“Nope. Nada. Never.”

Derek huffed, looking more amused than angry. “This makes it twice now, where you have the information I want. You are so determined to have all the cards in your hands.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes, could feel Derek’s playfulness. “Well, it feels nice. I can see why you like it.”

“A trade then, if you’re willing,” Derek said.

Stiles scoffed. “If I’m not? Are you going to,” he paused, gulping a little, “kiss me again?”

Derek shrugged but Stiles saw that flicker in his eyes. “Maybe. Are you going to chance it?”

Stiles licked his lips, his face flushing when Derek blatantly traced the motion with his eyes. So they ended up here, a door tottering open between them. Ever since their first not-kisses, Stiles was… he was interested.

He hated Derek but at the same time, the man intrigued him.

“So, Stiles? Trade me for it?” Derek asked, with an expression on his face that he knew where this was going and he was definitely on board.

“N-No,” Stiles breathed out.

Derek reached over, grabbing Stiles’ by the arm. Without a word, he pulled Stiles towards him, gentler than he had done the last time. He leaned forward, the warmth of his body making Stiles shiver.

“Stiles, trade me for it,” Derek said, his lips just inches away.

Before Stiles even stuttered out a _‘No’_ , Derek was already pressing his lips to his.

The kiss was not what Stiles expected. It was a slow smolder, a cascading wave, a buildup to something, not at all like how Stiles expected it to be, harsh and hard and domineering. Derek’s lips were warm, his stubble soothingly rough against Stiles’ face. He bullied his way into Stiles’ mouth with long sweeps of his tongue and devoured him from the inside, alternating between teasing licks and mind-numbingly sucking on Stiles’ tongue, making it hard to suppress a moan.

Derek reached out, grabbing Stiles’ thigh. Stiles gasped into Derek’s mouth when Derek tugged, lifting him and placing him square on his lap and… fuck. Derek was half-hard.

Derek wasn’t doing anything about it though, concentrating on Stiles’ mouth and then after a while traveling down to mouth at his neck.

“F-Fuck.” Stiles bit his lip, trying to stop more sounds from escaping.

Derek’s grin was obvious against his skin. He leaned back and Stiles looked down at him, meeting Derek’s lust-filled gaze and red lips.

Fuck, but the man was gorgeous.

“F-faking intimacy like before, I-I can see it,” Stiles muttered.

Derek let out a soft chuckle. “There is nothing fake about this.” Derek’s hand groped his ass, cupping it possessively. His other hand snaked across Stiles’ front, fingers teasing the zipper on his pants. “Shall we?”

Stiles shouldn’t. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t.

Stiles prepared himself for the worst as he said, “No.”

Derek didn’t look offended, merely moved his hand to Stiles’ stomach, stroking under his shirt and upward.

“No.” Derek smirked, confident and sure. “For now, at least.”

Stiles shivered at the teasing touches to his stomach. Derek nosed at his neck, licking and biting up his jawline to just below his ear.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” Stiles said, fisting his hands in Derek’s shirt, fighting not to close his eyes at the pleasurable assault on his skin.

Derek pressed a kiss to his overheated skin. “So you keep saying.”

“I’m not here for your e–” Stiles hissed when Derek rolled his hips up just a teeny bit. “–entertainment,” Stiles spat out.

“No, you’re not,” Derek said, rolling his hips again. “You’re here…” He nipped Stiles’ earlobe and Stiles was unable to bite back his squeak. “…as a challenge.”

Stiles pushed him back against the seat and glared down at him. “I’m fucking serious.”

Derek’s smirk was sexy in a sinful way. “Fight me all you want, Stiles,” his voice was low, a dirty promise curling along his words and flowing through Stiles. “All the better when I finally have you naked under me and begging me to take you apart.”

Derek reared up, claiming Stiles lips once more, the luxurious taste and smell of him erasing all other thoughts in his head. With Derek’s lips and body against his, Stiles all but forgot everything else.

* * *

“I didn’t get the certificates,” Stiles said.

“What?” Allison asked, pouting.

Stiles took out the case with the necklace and placed it on the table. “I didn’t have time to sort through them before the guard got in. Fuck.”

“Unlucky,” Rusty muttered. “We can still call a tipoff though. Hopefully the Forrester family gets fucked.”

“I agree,” Willow said.

Stiles nodded as Willow and Rusty made plans. He stroked his lower lip with a thumb absentmindedly.

That was the first secret he kept for Derek. He didn’t know that was not going to be his last.

* * *

It was the morning after and everyone was having breakfast. Willow was having them taste test some of the new items they were planning to sell at the bakery.

Stiles and Scott were shoving everything down their throats. Erica was slapping away their hands for taking everything. Willow was in the kitchen unpacking some of the desserts she wanted them to try. Deaton was eating quietly and politely. Allison was serving food and drinks.

“Rusty,” Allison called out. “Stop fiddling with your computer and come taste these tarts. I know you like tarts.”

Rusty’s computer was flashing and he was quiet.

“Come on, Rusty!” Stiles called out. “We’re gonna finish all these, bro! Come on!”

“Allison?” Rusty called out instead.

“Yes?” She asked, carrying the glass pitcher and pouring drinks for everyone.

Rusty spun around in his desk chair and turned to the room at large. He was biting his lip, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Alli, my computer picked it up the minute they landed on the airport. Your family is back in town.”

The pitcher fell to the floor and broke into pieces.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek motioned to the bartender for two drinks. “I was aware the very moment you and your family landed in from Hong Kong. Any particular reason for your visit?”
> 
> The bartender handed the drinks and Derek slid one across the counter. He watched Chris Argent catch it, taking a sip.
> 
> “A social visit, if you can call it that,” Chris said. 
> 
> \---
> 
> “Have lunch with me then,” Derek said.
> 
> Stiles did a double-take. This was new. He narrowed his eyes at him.
> 
> Derek shook his head, amused. “I know you don’t have anything for you, no names, no addresses, no information, nothing. But right now, I don’t want anything _from_ you. I just want _you_.”

Stiles was on support for Erica that night. Unlike Stiles and Allison, Erica and Scott weren’t as light on their feet but they were both incredibly charming and adorable, so they were the ones given the recon assignments.

Right now, Erica was trying to gain information on the parents of Dimitri Abernathy and Genevieve Holden. The not-really-together couple contacted Blackstar Inc. to steal their wedding rings and stop their parents from forcing them into this marriage. The problem though was that they both didn’t know where the rings were kept.

Stiles wasn’t quite sure how a couple of rings would stop a wedding, until the engaged pair pointed out that both rings were family heirlooms worth thousands. The ‘loss’ of it would allow them a few months off in which Genevieve would be able to get her affairs in order to marry her boyfriend and for Dimitri to elope with his boyfriend.

It was all reminiscent of a soap opera.

Erica was disguised as a potential client charming her way into the good graces of the Abernathy family secretary, who had information on where the rings were kept. Erica had been charming the woman for a little over a week now, bumping into her ‘by accident’ or appearing wherever she was ‘accidentally’. They were now eating dinner, giggling and whispering and, if Stiles knew Erica, groping one another not-so-innocently under the table.

Stiles was chewing on curly fries as he monitored the comms – which were turned down a little in volume because he seriously did not want to hear that much giggling and sighing, seriously – and thought about their other problem at hand.

After Allison dropped the pitcher, she dithered about the kitchen, cleaning up the mess. The moment the pitcher broke, Allison had laughed, cursed her clumsiness, and ushered everyone and their plates out to the living room to eat while she cleaned up. The only one she didn’t chase off was Deaton, who helped her mop and sweep up the mess, talking to her in low calming tones. Scott and Willow were dithering by the doorway worriedly. Rusty was on his computer. Erica and Stiles were eating on the couch.

They’ve all lived and worked together for two years and knew enough of one another’s secrets and histories and the reason why they decided to join the pet project of a bored and half-crazy billionaire with blue hair. They all knew of Erica’s hatred of her mother and guilt over her brother’s death, of Scott’s disappointment over his mother’s decision to choose his father over him, of Stiles’ father’s death, and Rusty’s discontent with his picture-perfect family.

And they all knew of Allison’s decision to forsake her real identity as Allison Argent, the sole heiress to the Argent Arms empire.

The Argents were the most famous weapons dealer in the entire country. They were among the few chosen suppliers to the army and were legally allowed to conduct business abroad so long as their transactions were transparent and pre-approved. Allison could attest to the truth however, that her family was not as lawful as they made themselves out to be.

The current head of the Argent family was Gerard, her grandfather, and was immediately subordinated by her mother, Victoria, and her aunt Kate, the latter one Allison referred to as trigger-happy and prone to violence. Her father, Chris, was not as involved with the family business and preferred to work on smaller and completely legal ventures, but Allison loathed his indecision to do something about the rest of the family.

Allison ran away from home after she found out allegations of warmongering against her family, how they supplied terrorists and renegade ex-military soldiers with weapons given the right price. She had tried to get proof about them but was unable to do so and instead opted to leave. She tried bringing her concerns to the police and even to Cassandra once the billionaire took her under her wing, but there was nothing anyone could do about it considering the Argent family’s influence.

“Think she’ll want to go after them?” Rusty asked in a soft voice as he sat down across from Stiles and Erica, grabbing his food.

Erica nodded. “Probably.”

Stiles glanced at the kitchen. “Most likely.”

Rusty winced. “I don’t want to die.”

“Don’t we all?” Stiles asked, sighing.

Allison and Deaton exited the kitchen and headed to the living room. Allison took a moment to kiss Scott chastely on the cheek before joining everyone on the coffee table. Scott gave them all confused puppy-dog looks and Willow looked uncomfortable but Deaton merely started eating in that calm manner of his while Allison grabbed her plate and fork and started eating.

Silence ensued.

Everyone had just barely started tucking in again when Allison placed her plate back on the table.

“I want to kill them. I want to kill them all.”

Stiles was jarred from his thoughts by a girlish giggle from Erica. He sighed, tossing his empty bucket of curly fries on the dashboard. He checked the scene. They were ordering deserts.

He wondered if Erica would end up going back to the woman’s apartment, and sighed.

Stiles’ thoughts wandered again. He couldn’t hope to understand what Allison was feeling. The mere thought that one’s family could be involved in something that heinous and being powerless to stop them was undoubtedly painful. But Stiles knew there was nothing they could really do about it. The Argents were bad news and they were nothing but a bunch of thieves.

Stiles drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He hadn’t had the displeasure of meeting the Argents yet, but he knew they were bad news. And he would much rather have them far away, preferably locked up, and unable to mess with people’s lives.

Here’s hoping at least someone was trying to bring them down. Somebody. Anybody.

* * *

Cassandra Ennis was reclined on her seat, her white polo shirt unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and her skinny tie loosened. Her usually pristine blue braid was messy atop her head. She had a glass of wine in one hand and sipped it.

“You have good taste,” Cass said, raising her glass to her companion.

Derek chuckled. “Thank you. I have a good sommelier.”

Cass nodded, taking another sip. “I am quite surprised you asked to meet me, Derek.”

“Really?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking. “Are you really surprised?”

Cass smirked. “Well… I like to give people the illusion of such.”

Derek relaxed on his seat before speaking, “You’re a hard woman to get information on. Turns out you had your records purged and hidden.”

“Maybe I did,” Cass said, tossing her braid over her shoulder.

“And you’re obviously powerful enough to keep your secrets,” Derek said. He gave her an impressed look. “There’s a reason Blackstar Inc. never encounters any trouble. It took me a while to figure out that as their benefactor, you also happened to have the city’s police force in the palm of your hand.”

Cass gave him a predatory grin. “That’s why people don’t touch Blackstar, Inc. Any one touches my kids, they will die.” Her grin turned menacing. “You’re lucky I didn’t have the police bang your door down when you went after Stiles. Twice now.”

Derek didn’t even seem surprised. He gave her a challenging look. “Are you asking me to stay away from him?”

Cass gave him a placating smile. “To be honest, I don’t want him to stay away from you. Not exactly. I like the idea you bring. Passion. Excitement. Thrills. But I don’t like you, Derek. Not for him. The kid’s lost a lot and the only thing I want for him is happiness, peace, and freedom.” She gave Derek her most scathing look. “And I don’t trust you. Not with him. I don’t want him dead.”

“I’ve lost a lot myself, Cass,” Derek griped back. “I don’t want Stiles to go through that. I don’t want anybody to go through what I did.”

There was silence.

“Let’s not kid ourselves here,” Cass said seriously. “I am quite sure that you are aware that I know the truth about you.”

Derek nodded. “And it took a while for me to find out the truth about you, about him, but now I do.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you willing to help me?”

“That depends,” Cass said, raising an eyebrow at him. “I won’t deny that I have always been partial towards Stiles given our history together. Not that he knows or realizes it.” Cass shrugged. “But I care about all the kids under my roof, Derek. All of them. I am not about to sacrifice them for your desire to one-up the Argents in your little underworld game.”

Derek didn’t back down. “You should know that I do have the resources to bring them down.”

At the look in his eyes, Cass tossed back her drink. She sighed. “Well, now that you’re in the picture, I don’t have much of a choice.”

“Now that _they’re_ back in town, none of us have much of a choice about anything,” Derek corrected her.

Cass had no reply to that.

* * *

The team was greeted the next morning by news on TV claiming that the Forrester family was currently under investigation for fraud. According to the news, an anonymous source provided them proofs and now the family’s almost decade-long reign on the animal training and competition circuit was now under heavy scrutiny.

Allison tipped her head against the couch, looking at Stiles upside down. “You didn’t get the certificates from that jeweler assignment, right Stiles?”

Stiles was barefooted and shirtless and walking in from the kitchen. “No, no I didn’t.”

“But I’ve looked and it wasn’t the jeweler that tipped them off,” Rusty said as he typed in his laptop. “Probably a jealous rival.”

“And someone definitely influential,” Stiles said.

“We’ll we’re lucky someone did spill the beans,” Scott said.

“And lucky that whoever that was is on our side,” Erica said. “This calls for some celebratory beer, kiddies.”

“Way ahead of you,” Willow said, carrying a six-pack with a grin.

Stiles laughed, grabbing one and toasting his team. He sipped at it as he watched the screen. He felt his heart beating fast in his chest.

Derek.

He really did it.

Maybe he wasn’t as fucked up and evil as Stiles thought.

Maybe.

“And another thing to celebrate is Erica,” Willow said. “Job well done on your recon job. We can take those rings tomorrow. Allison, are you up to do the job?”

“Sure.” Allison nodded. She hadn’t said anything about her family other than her declaration a few days back. She hadn’t stated any plans but everyone knew she was stewing over it, thinking of something to do.

Stiles glanced at Willow, who gave him a look.

Yeah, better keep Allison busy. They can’t have her jumping into this and then doing something she’ll regret.

* * *

Derek observed observing everything around the hotel restaurant with a critical eye. While he had his little side projects going on, the state of Hale Enterprises’ various businesses was something he would never neglect. He was flanked by Danny and Isaac tonight as he weaved his way around the restaurant, greeting and playing nice with the high rollers and the businesspeople.

“How’s Lydia doing?” Derek asked, looking out at Lydia who was seated by the window on the other side of the room. She was mediating the conversation between a man and a woman, both of them in suits and talking heatedly.

Isaac tilted his head to the side, listening to his earpiece. “Sounds like it’s going well. She’s wrapping it up.”

“I’ll get her a drink,” Danny said, motioning to a passing waitress with a dimpled smile. “A drink for you, boss?”

Derek nodded. “Just one.”

Danny grinned. “You, Isaac?”

Isaac made a face. “None for me, thanks.”

“Your loss, pup.” Danny chuckled, turning to the waitress.

Danny’s sleeves were rolled up and Derek couldn’t help zeroing in on the triskelion on his forearm. Derek wasn’t sure when he got it, the same way he didn’t know when the others had theirs done. All he knew was that Lydia was first to get it, having it done on her bicep, Boyd had one on his right rib, Danny on his forearm, and Isaac on his chest above his heart. It made something pleasant curl up his spine to see his team proudly take on the Hale insignia.

By the time Lydia came towards them, the drinks have arrived.

“Fucking retards they are,” Lydia muttered, swiping Derek’s drink from his hand and downing the rest of it.

“Danny did get you your own drink, Lydia,” Derek muttered, sighing.

“Oh, thanks.” Lydia grabbed that one too. “Anyway, deal’s done. We have the Hummel family and their recruitment details.”

“Good,” Derek said.

“Boyd,” Danny suddenly muttered, hand to his ear and looking away to address his comm. His eyes narrowed at Derek. “Boss, we have visitors.”

“Our biggest business competition,” Lydia said, looking over Derek’s shoulder with a smirk forming on her face.

“Oh.” Derek chuckled in realization, eyes turning predatory. “That they are.” He twined his fingers together and rested his chin on his hands. “Inform everyone. I don’t want us caught unprepared. You know the drill.”

Danny and Isaac nodded and immediately left their boss behind.

“Lydia,” Derek called out gently before she could leave. He gave her a serious look. “Please see to it that there are no complications.”

Lydia returned her gaze and bowed her head. “Rest assured, I shall see to it personally.”

Derek ambled towards the bar. The lights were turned down and dim so it was a bit dark around the area. Derek settled on a bar stool. Five minutes later, someone sat down two seats away.

“Nice place,” the man said.

“I make sure my establishments are topnotch,” Derek said in reply. He motioned to the bartender for two drinks. “I was aware the very moment you and your family landed in from Hong Kong. Any particular reason for your visit?”

The bartender handed the drinks and Derek slid one across the counter. He watched Chris Argent catch it, taking a sip.

“A social visit, if you can call it that,” Chris said. “Do you object to me being here?”

Derek shrugged. “I object to your entire being, Chris, but business is business. It does well for my patrons to see the once infallible Argents come to my doorstep. Well, one of them at least.”

They were silent for a few moments.

“How do you manage all this?” Chris asked, motioning behind him at the myriad of people deep in conversation. They both knew more than a few of them were in conversation about something illegal.

“My business is to deal with other people’s business,” Derek said. “People tell me what they want and I tell them whether or not it’s possible. I advise them and tell them how to get what they want, where it is, and who to get it from. It’s my job to know. That’s all there is to it.”

“You do all that for all these lowlifes, but what would you do if you wanted something from someone?” Chris asked.

“I negotiate for them,” Derek said, running a finger against the rim of his glass. “As much as possible, I get them without the expense of my own resources.”

“Smart,” Chris said. “You’ve always known how to protect yourself.”

“Of course,” Derek said. “How about you? Are you still a spineless coward?”

Chris winced. “I came to warn you,” he said instead.

“That’s a yes then,” Derek said, downing the rest of his drink. He scoffed and stood up, ready to leave. Chris grabbed his arm.

Derek heard the sound of a gun being cocked and he looked back to see the bartender at the corner, glaring at Chris and with a hand inside his vest, the bulge on it pointed right at Chris. Derek lowered a hand, telling the man to stand down. His men were nothing if not loyal.

Chris didn’t even seem fazed. “I came to warn you about us, about the others. They know a lot more than you think.”

“I have no doubt your family knows a lot,” Derek said. He leaned towards Chris. “You always come with a warning, Chris, never a solution. I thought you’d be braver after your daughter’s disappearance. For once in your life, do something.”

Derek turned on his heels. “Feel free to drink and dine all you want, free of charge. Then get the hell out of my hotel and don’t ever come back.”

With that said, Derek walked off.

* * *

The first time the team encountered Jackson Whittemore, they were all involved in the assignment and were undercover. Even Cass and Dr. Deaton were there.

It was a swanky affair, a charity ball hosted by the famous Whittemore family. Their family founded the elite and powerful Whittemore Industries, making a fortune off their various businesses. The matriarch of the family, Scarlett Whittemore, was known to helm the entire family business, making most of the decisions for their company. She was also a well-known art connoisseur and the entire affair was her pet project to showcase her newest art acquisition, the famous ‘Mondo Viste’ painting, the painting Blackstar Inc. had to steal.

This was a complicated assignment because they couldn’t steal the painting too early and risk alerting everybody but they couldn’t let the piece be revealed to the public.

According to Cass, Scarlett has been accused over the past years not only of partaking in the black market for the acquisition of her art projects but also assisting in illegal monetary transactions by covering it up through her family’s company. An internal and not entirely legal investigation revealed that Whittemore Industries seemed to be providing loans to individuals with ties to terrorist organizations. The police were tipped off that the painting was acquired illegally and the assignment to steal it was to serve as a catalyst for an investigation into Scarlett Whittemore, and hopefully result in a sentencing.

Cass was personally invited and was working the scene with the other rich kids, an eye-catching sight with her braided blue hair and the strapless dress revealing her tattooed arm. Deaton was there as her plus one. Willow was at the back among the cooks, a friend of hers being part of the catering team. Stiles and Scott were disguised as waiters. Erica was among the hostesses. Allison was working at the back with the delivery team. Rusty was huddled at a mini-van outside with his computers, surveying the scene.

Stiles weaved his way through the crowd, stopping once in a while to offer drinks to the guests. He stopped just in front of a few suits, offering a tray.

“Drinks, dear sirs?” he asked.

Some agreed, thanking him politely. Nearby was Scott, who was also serving drinks including a man in a pristine grey suit with black trim and a pale blue tie who gave him a blatant once-over, his eyebrow cocking haughtily before turning back to his conversation.

Wow. As they said, Jackson Whittemore was a fucking douchebag.

Stiles rolled his eyes while Scott shrugged.

Other than their massive millions, another infamous thing about the family was Jackson Whittemore, the son of Donald Whittemore and his first wife. She had custody of him before her untimely passing at a car accident when the boy was fourteen. Donald took him in and Jackson was drafted into the family business. However, it was common knowledge that Scarlett never warmed up to his stepson despite the fact that Jackson was a naturally talented mediator and businessman compared to both of Scarlett’s sons, who were more well-known for spending rather than generating money.

Stiles passed by Scott, giving each other a friendly bro fist as they passed. Once Stiles refilled his drinks tray, he started another scope. He had been checking the area several times, noting all the guards and the exits.

The painting was propped up on a podium in the middle of the room. It was covered all around by drapes hanging off a mechanism at the ceiling that would rise up to reveal the painting. The plan was for someone to hang themselves from the mechanism and then drag the painting upwards just as it was supposed to be unveiled to the guests, giving the illusion that it was stolen.

The problem was that the theft itself was a little more complicated. The mechanism was strong enough to carry the heavy and thick drapes and Allison, who was the lightest and most lithe of the team, but the painting’s frame was large and a bit too heavy for her alone and she couldn’t stay upside down for long. Someone had to sit on the scaffolding above to support her weight and also take turns with her in carrying it. Plus they had to hold on until everyone evacuated the scene before lowering the painting back down again and then sneaking it out using one of the portable food service lockers from the caterers.

They had their parts to play. Allison was to get the painting with Scott being her assistant since he was the strongest. Erica had to make sure the drapery wasn’t lifted too high up to reveal Allison and Willow had to provide the food locker from the caterers. Then the both of them, Cass, and Deaton had fifteen minutes at the most to evacuate everyone. Stiles was tasked with hiding the painting inside the food locker and then rolling it out through one of the other hallways to get to Rusty and the van. Rusty was their eyes and ears as well as tinkering with the security cameras and alarms.

This wasn’t actually their first team assignment so they knew what to do and how to play their part to perfection.

“I’ll have one.”

Stiles snapped out of his daze and twirled around, balancing the tray against his shoulder expertly. “Of course, sir.”

He was met with a hot green gaze and a satisfied little smirk.

Of course. Stiles shouldn’t even be surprised. Derek Hale of all people would definitely be invited to one of the fanciest and most expensive social events in the city.

Stiles gave him a polite smile, keeping any other expressions off his face, and served the man a glass.

“Thank you,” Derek said, voice low and just this sexy side of rough. He brought the glass to his lips, taking a sip, his gaze never leaving Stiles.

Stiles was pinned in place, mouth drying at the sight. He swallowed thickly. Derek hummed under his breath, and licked his lips in satisfaction. His lips quirked up in a small smile. He passed by Stiles, deliberately brushing their arms together, shoulders to elbows to the back of their hands.

“Asshole,” Stiles muttered before Derek was out of hearing range. He couldn’t quite hide the flush on his face.

Someone passed him and Stiles saw blonde hair, more strawberry-blonde really, a tight violet dress with a plunging neckline, and an amused grin follow after Derek.

Stiles couldn’t help watching Derek for a moment. He was devastatingly attractive tonight in a black blazer, black polo shirt opened two buttons at the top, no tie, and tight pants that hugged his muscular thighs. With his slightly messy hair and unshaved face, his ensemble was actually a tad more casual and disheveled than the others, but it had the intended effect of grabbing people’s attention and making him stand out.

Derek’s appearance had triggered a ripple in the room and he was being approached by people and swept into various conversation. He worked the scene like a pro. One of the people who were quick to approach him was Scarlett, clucking around the man excitedly.

Stiles tore his eyes away and got to work.

He needed to concentrate. He couldn’t make a mess of this assignment.

It was half-past nine when Scarlett announced the official unveiling to occur in ten minutes.

Stiles caught Scott’s eye across the room, and then Erica by the front door. They nodded to one another.

Stiles was in position a few minutes later at one of the back rooms with the food locker beside him and his earpiece comm already in. He could hear Allison, Scott, and Rusty talking. Rusty was always the head of the operations during these moments. He was the one to give them the signal and tell them where and when to move.

Stiles checked the service locker while he waited. He could vaguely hear the sudden gasps and screams, indicating that they’ve seen the missing painting. In his ear, Rusty was laughing like mad, saying something about the guests looking ridiculous. Stiles checked the inside of the locker which was clean, lined with bubble wrap, and with elastic straps designed to hold the painting in place.

He leaned against the door patiently, listening to Rusty relaying the events. The police had been contacted and Cass started a frenzy by panicking over her expensive coat and purse which could have been stolen. This started a stampede to the coat closet.

Rusty spoke up in Stiles’ ear. _“Stiles, you’re up. Remember, three-minute window.”_

Stiles nodded and immediately walked out of the room he was hiding in, pushing the locker in front of him. He knew his route, going through one of the shorter halls and into the main hall. It was devoid of people and the podium was empty.

“Allison? Scott?” he called out softly, pushing open the locker door and then jumping up on the stage. He tilted his head up and let out a whistle. “Well, well, didn’t think you guys had the time for that.”

Allison laughed while Scott flipped him off.

“You’re just jealous, bro,” Scott said.

Allison and Scott were seated on the scaffolding. Scott had his legs dangling from the edge while Allison was on his lap with her legs around Scott’s waist. Scott was holding the painting in place. The two of them had been engaged in some liplocking when Stiles had looked up.

“Put the lips and unmentionables away, kids,” Stiles said. “We have a job to do.”

“We were just making out,” Allison said. She tightened her legs around Scott’s waist and then slowly lowered herself to hang upside down. Scott handed her painting and they both slowly lowered it down to where Stiles was.

The frame was heavier than the painting itself and Stiles shuffled along to get it inside the food locker. He secured it to the straps and then closed the door. He looked back up under the drapes where his friends were righting themselves. They were going to exit through the other end of the scaffold and exit out of a side door.

“Rusty,” Stiles said. “I got the painting.”

There was the sound of typing and then Rusty’s voice. _“Good job. Take Hall E as planned and then use the crew exit. I’ll be waiting at the back. Don’t forget that there are no cameras on the crew exit, so you’re on your own there. You have a two minute window.”_

“Got it,” Stiles said. “I’ll be fine. Over and out.”

Stiles quickly wheeled the locker down the hall, checking to make sure he didn’t hit anything on the floor and make a sound. He could hear the hubbub and more than a few people screaming somewhere outside. But the most important thing was that everyone was gone and Stiles crossed the halls quietly, accompanied only by the sound of the locker’s wheels.

He passed Hall E and was about to head down a small hallway to the crew exit when someone stepped out from Hall F.

Stiles paused, eyes widening at the sight of Jackson Whittemore himself.

Holy. Crap.

Jackson saw him instantly, gaze zeroing in on Stiles’ face and then the food locker. Stiles could just hear the gears in his head turning.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Stiles dredged up his most innocent and polite smile. He patted the food locker.

“Ms. Tiana, head of catering, asked me to get everything out,” he said, expertly lying. “With the, er, mess…” He looked behind him and pretended to look flustered. “We’re kind of packing and running. Sorry, sir.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

Jackson’s eyes narrowed at him. “Who are you?”

Stiles pretended to look excited, bowing his head to the man. “Part of the catering team, Mr. Whittemore. Name’s Matt. I’m new and um…” He exaggerated his fidgeting and started rambling. “I kinda get bossed around hence the…” He patted the food locker. “And I gotta get all these babies outside. You’d think someone would come and help me but no. Everyone’s outside messing around with the crisis and…” He let out a squeak. “No offense meant, Mr. Whittemore! I mean, I think it’s horrible but I just kind of want to… keep my head down and not, like, make a mess.” He bit his lip.

Jackson didn’t seem impressed – fuck you, Jackson, because Stiles thought his acting was superb – but that seemed to be his default emotion towards anyone. He glanced between the locker and Stiles and then nodded slowly.

“Ok, then. Carry on.” Jackson walked off.

“I-I’m really sorry about the painting, Mister Whittemore!” Stiles called out.

Jackson let out a scoff as he passed. “No, you’re not.”

Stiles froze and looked back, but Jackson was already making his way down the hall.

“My stepmother has connections beyond your wildest dreams. If you don’t want her finding out, hide that as well as you can. And if she catches you, thank god you’re a decent actor.”

Jackson disappeared around the corner.

Wha–

He–

No–

What the hell?!

* * *

It was Stiles’ day off the day after the Whittemore theft when he saw the unmarked Rolls Royce parked two blocks from 7-11, the usual burly, black, bald bodyguard standing beside it. Allison was on assignment today to steal the couple’s wedding rings with Scott as her support and Erica as the distraction. That left Stiles to putter about wherever he wanted. And when he saw the sleek black car on the road, he tried to look around as inconspicuously as he could before jogging down the black to the car.

He barely had his hand on the handle when the door swung open, almost hitting him, and a strong hand pulled him inside.

Stiles was instantly met with Derek’s soft and warm mouth on his.

The immediate attraction he had for Derek should probably scare him, that he could succumb so quickly to such a dangerous man who he barely even knew, let alone trust. He knew he had to stop, to walk away before this gets more serious, before he gets into trouble or worse and get his friends into trouble.

But it was hard to think that way when Derek was closing the door behind him and pressing Stiles against it, both of his large, warm palms cupping Stiles’ face and whispering against his lips.

“Hello.” Derek’s breath was warm and sweet and tinged with the hint of tobacco. He surged up to nip at Stiles’ lower lip and suck it into his mouth.

Stiles shivered. “H-Hello yourself, y-you jerk!” He gripped the front of Derek’s suit, trying to get the older man closer, even though they were both already as close as they could get. “T-This is assault.”

Derek slid his hands under Stiles’ thighs, pulling him over to straddle Derek’s lap. Stiles immediately rolled his hips downward, making Derek hiss into his mouth which Stiles greedily swallowed.

“I don’t see you complaining,” Derek said and licked his way inside Stiles’ mouth, making him groan. “You looked good in that waiter outfit.”

“Psh, go ahead. Say it. I look good doing manual labor,” Stiles scoffed, mouthing along Derek’s jaw which was still smooth and clean-shaven. It suddenly dawned on him that it was a little before lunch. The thought of them doing this in the day for the first time suddenly seemed a lot dirtier than their previous nighttime encounters.

Derek chuckled, the vibration feeling lovely against Stiles’ lips. “I happen to think you look good all the time.”

Stiles flicked open the top buttons of Derek’s shirt, ducking down to place messy kisses on the mans’ neck and collar. He stopped himself from giving him a hickey though. He was pretty sure Derek wouldn’t like that.

“Fuck. Stiles.” Derek groaned, one hand burying itself into Stiles’ hair and tugging him back up to mesh their mouths together.

Derek practically devoured him, messy and heated in the way he tasted the inside of Stiles’ mouth, and possessive and rough in the way he stroked Stiles’ sides, shoulders, arms, and denim-clad thighs. He keened when Derek reached under his shirt, nails raking gently along his back.

“I-I saw it on the news,” Stiles said, as Derek placed one hand under his shirt against his chest. “T-The Forrester fraud case. Y-You actually gave the information to the police?”

“The Forresters are not interesting to me. It was no problem giving them up.” Derek kissed the underside of his jaw and stroked one hand along his front, flicking a nipple and making Stiles shudder. “As for the Whittemore painting you stole, Scarlett Whittemore is currently being investigated.”

Stiles leaned back, perking up. “Really? That’s great! Hopefully they nab her.”

Derek grinned. He leaned down, biting along Stiles’ jaw and chin teasingly to make him moan and then down his neck to mouth at the hollow between his collarbones. Stiles panted against him, flushing hard.

“You taste good,” Derek whispered, looking up at him.

Stiles swallowed thickly at the look in his eyes, green eyes almost black with hunger and lust. It made something coil warmly in his stomach.

“M-Maybe you’re just hungry,” Stiles said, before biting his lip at his childish reply. Derek let out a low chuckle, the vibration of it tickly and warm against Stiles’ chest. Before he replied, Stiles said, “And if you say you’re hungry for me, I will hit you.”

The chuckle turned into soft laughter and while the heat in Derek’s eyes lessened, it turned into something amused and delighted, the first time Stiles had seen him so. Stiles was so pleased, purring a little when Derek’s grip turned slow and lax, almost leisurely in the way Derek stroked his back and rubbed the pads of his fingers against Stiles’ skin.

“Have lunch with me then,” Derek said.

Stiles did a double-take. This was new. He narrowed his eyes at him.

Derek shook his head, amused. “I know you don’t have anything for me, no names, no addresses, no information, nothing. But right now, I don’t want anything _from_ you. I just want _you_.”

Stiles stiffened and for a split second he knew he should have controlled himself. The playful glint in Derek’s eyes dissipated a little and his hands stroking Stiles’ back stopped.

This was not in their usual script. Never mind that Stiles only had their two encounters to look back on, but even so he was sure this was not the way it was supposed to go. He told him so.

“This is…” He swallowed. “This is not the way it’s supposed to go.”

Derek shrugged, his shoulders moving under Stiles’ hand. Stiles couldn’t help stroking his broad body in fascination and that prompted Derek to continue his ministrations on Stiles’ back.

“How did you think this was going to go?” And Derek actually sounded curious.

“You… You would…” Stiles was already wincing at his words. “You would… take… me.”

Derek gave him a small smile. “Are you that easy to take?”

“No,” Stiles said immediately, punctuated with a hard snort.

“I’m taking my time,” Derek said, grinning. And damn, the easy smile on him looked so good. He leaned forward, capturing Stiles’ lips and rolling his hips upward, making Stiles moan into his mouth. Derek licked into his mouth with purpose, chuckling.

Then it was like the tenderness of their interaction suddenly came to the forefront of Stiles’ mind. He leaned away from Derek’s mouth, wiping at his lips with a thumb and flushing at the wetness and heat of his lips. Derek’s eyes darkened.

Stiles gave Derek a look.

“I won’t deny I enjoy this… this… whatever this is,” Stiles said. “But I still don’t trust you.”

Something in Derek stiffened but there was something in him that told Stiles he understood what he meant. His fists tightened against Stiles’ ribs.

Stiles’ heart calmed and the fierce energy from earlier tapered off into a slow burn.

“I have to go.” Stiles grabbed his bag. He hesitated, before pressing a kiss to Derek’s temple.

Derek rubbed Stiles’ arm, wrist to shoulder and then let his hand drop. He schooled his face into a smirk. “You still owe me a date, Stiles.”

Stiles scoffed, scurrying over Derek’s lap to get to the door and glad for the change in atmosphere. “You said I’m a challenge.” He smirked. “This is it.”

Derek looked taken aback for a second, before he let out a loud laugh. He leaned forward, trying to kiss Stiles but ended up pressing his laughing mouth against Stiles’’. Stiles was proud for having done that and there was a voice in the back of his mind admitting that he would love to watch Derek laugh all the time.

That thought slightly scared him.

Derek’s laughter faded and he smirked. “I see. Well, I’m nothing but persistent. I’ll wear you down eventually.” The look in his eyes was serious but filled with glee.

Stiles couldn’t help grinning. “You can try.”

He opened the door, pausing only to give Derek a smack on the cheek.

“Later, taters.”

Stiles slid out of the car and headed off, making sure to take more than a few back-and-forth routes, shortcuts and longcuts just to get any tails off his back. By the time he got home, he felt better than he’d had in weeks.

* * *

“Hey, Rusty,” Erica called out. “When are we supposed to deliver the Whittemore painting to Miss Cass?”

“In an hour,” Rusty said, chugging down his beer. “I want it gone sooner though. The painting hurts my eyes.”

Stiles gnawed a little at the lip of his beer can. He hesitated for a moment before speaking, “Hey Rusty, do we have anything on Jackson?”

“The stepson? Why do you ask?”

“Just curious, that’s all,” Stiles said, sitting down beside Allison and slapping her hands away when she tried to rub her cold beer can on his shirtless torso. “I know Scarlett Whittemore doesn’t plan on naming him an heir. He doesn’t even have his name on their family registry.”

Allison nodded. “I heard about that too. I mean, I personally think the entire family is cuckoo and all their sons are total assholes but Jackson actually has something to show for it.”

“Scarlett’s other sons are useless.” Erica said. “They were flirting me up and all the other hostesses instead of doing their job.”

“I heard Jackson works a lot more for the company than those two,” Scott said. “But he’s not set to inherit anything. There are probably a lot of anger and fucked up feelings there.”

“Yeah.” Stiles said, swishing “If I were in his place, I’d be glad that, um, you know, her precious painting got stolen. I’d probably just hand it over to the thieves if I could.”

Everyone nodded and Stiles didn’t add anything else to that.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It is not my problem you couldn’t look after your supposed territory, Victoria,” Derek said. “And I know the only reason you feel so threatened is because it’s me, of all people.”
> 
> “We’re not threatened by you, you dog,” Victoria growled at him.
> 
> “You may have your little business company and your few allies and your handsome plaything, but don’t be so full of yourself.” Gerard suddenly smirked, deranged. “And by the way, it is relatively easy to get to him, Derek. Kate can attest to that.”
> 
> \---
> 
> “You’re seeing someone?” Scott asked, still wide-eyed.
> 
> Stiles winced. “…I might be.”
> 
> “Who is it?” Scott asked.
> 
> “… I can’t tell you,” Stiles said, wincing when Scott’s face immediately shut down.
> 
> “Why not?”
> 
> Because he’s a criminal. Because he’s dangerous. Because he can kill me, can kill you, can kill all of us. 
> 
> “Because I don’t know how I feel about him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update has been a long time coming. Sorry about that. I got a new job which I kinda love-hate. I'm getting the groove of it now so hopefully I update quicker.
> 
> Enjoy the chap. It's a lot longer than my other chaps.

“Can’t believe you tipped off the cops about the Orion family,” Stiles said, leaning back on Derek’s chest and idly playing with Derek’s fingers against his stomach. He tilted his head back.

Derek shrugged, smiling a little when Stiles nuzzled against the underside of his jaw. “The Orion family and their men are professional hitmen for fire. I dislike their business.”

Stiles hummed a little in thought. “For a crime boss, you’re awfully helpful to the police sometimes.”

Derek shrugged again, leaning down to place a kiss on Stiles’ nose.

Stiles twisted around, hands toying with Derek’s unbuttoned polo, the back of his finger stroking against the skin of Derek’s exposed chest. Derek felt lulled by the contact and watched Stiles’ roving eyes, dark and lidded with just the hint of lust.

They hadn’t had sex yet and truthfully, Derek wasn’t really in the rush for that. He liked this, the near-silent moments where he could turn his brain off, no plans to go over, no businesses to look after, and no people to deal with. Derek could just _be_.

Stiles suddenly paused and Derek watched his gaze zero in on Derek’s shoulder. Before Derek could say anything, Stiles was pushing back the left side of his shirt to reveal the small whitish scar. It was from when he and Stiles first met, when Stiles shot him point blank on the shoulder.

Derek had only fond feelings for that scar. He was sure partly sure Stiles did too from the way Stiles stroked the scar with the rough pad of a finger, before his lips downturned into a frown at the thought of hurting Derek. Derek reached up, smoothing out the furrow on his brow with his thumb. Stiles suddenly leaned down, brushing his lips feather-light and quick against the mark twice before leaning up to kiss Derek on the mouth softly.

Derek’s heart stuttered in his chest at that.

Stiles rested his head against Derek’ chest, quiet and still and Derek gave in to the temptation to slide his hands languidly across the younger man’s back.

“You busy later?” Derek asked. He already knew the answer to that, but Stiles would undoubtedly get mad if he showed any indication that he knew.

Stiles murmured in agreement. “Yeah. Got a graveyard shift at work.”

“Do you have time for dinner?”

“Of course, I do. I am entitled to a break during my job.”

“How about time for dinner with me?”

“Ah. Now that one, I probably do not have time for.” Stiles gave him a knowing look. He gently pushed himself off Derek.

They both knew Stiles had a clear hour or two before he had to leave, but Derek let him grab his backpack from the floor. He smiled when Stiles leaned down to give him one last kiss, the younger man’s smile obvious against his lips, before he backed off to get to the door.

“I have to go,” Stiles said. “I’ll see you to–”

Derek grabbed him by the elbow, pulling him down. Stiles yelped.

“Let me go, you brute,” he protested, though he allowed most of his weight to rest against Derek and the corners of his lips were shaking as he suppressed a smile.

“No,” Derek said simply, reaching up to cup his jaw gently before kissing him. Stiles opened up to him beautifully, no ounce of hesitation.

It should scare Derek how easy this was, how natural it felt to kiss Stiles, to be gentle and affectionate.

“Later,” Stiles whispered, finally extricating himself from Derek’s arms and then clambering out of the Rolls Royce. He didn’t look back as he disappeared into a dark alley.

Derek was a bit worried but he knew Stiles could take care of himself. He closed the door, buttoned up his shirt and rubbed his face and neck, still able to feel the places where Stiles pressed his lips and tongue and teeth.

Fuck it all, but Derek was more than a bit smitten with the man.

The Rolls Royce drove off and after ten minutes, which by then had Derek looking spotless and composed as always, the window separating him from the front seat lowered. Isaac was on the driver’s seat with Boyd on the passenger seat.

“Just got a call from Lydia, boss,” Boyd said, already on point with work. “She’s cancelling your ten-thirty appointment, something about trouble with Gemini.”

Derek took out his phone. “Did you increase surveillance on her casino?”

“Yes, boss,” Boyd said.

Derek nodded. “I want Gemini behind bars, Boyd. See that it happens.”

Of course,” Boyd replied, immediately talking to his men on the phone.

“Isaac, office,” Derek said and Isaac gave him a two-fingered salute in reply.

Derek briefly considered the both of them.

The glass partition between Derek and his men was more than a bit thick so Derek wasn’t too worried about what Isaac and Boyd could have heard between him and Stiles, not that there was much to listen to apart from the occasional conversation and the moans, groans, and soft sighs. All they did after every single one of Derek’s trysts with Stiles was to give him ten minutes to get himself together before lowering the window and then getting on to business.

It wasn’t like Derek expected them to say something. If anything, Derek knew his men were not just loyal, but exercised a healthy dose of tact. Derek knew that they knew the risks of these little make-out sessions, the trouble it could cause the entire enterprise and the entire family if Derek wasn’t the least bit careful. But none of them ever said a word. Not ever. Not even Lydia, who was Derek’s right-hand in everything and was always more than a bit harsh in scrutinizing Derek’s decisions to ensure the safety of the entire family.

Derek rubbed the bridge of his nose in thought.

“Anything wrong, boss?” Isaac asked, looking at him worriedly. “Migraine?”

Derek shook his head. “I’m good, thanks.”

Years of work by all of them. Derek could not, and would never, risk that much sweat, blood, and tears.

His phone rang and he answered, quickly getting back to work.

* * *

_“I kinda want to kill Miss Cass, right now,”_ Erica just about growled.

Stiles decided not to say anything. He just wanted to do his job and get home. Erica was ranting enough for the whole team anyway. And besides, it wasn’t like he could reply to the earpiece he had on.

Stiles raised his glass to the bartender in thanks and turned around, leaning back against the edge of the bar. His eyes skated over the entire establishment.

_“We’ve been getting assignment after assignment,”_ Erica continued to whine. _“I’m demanding a raise.”_

Rusty sighed. _“Shut up and get to work, Erica.”_

_“You shut up, Rusty. You get in here and be the one to get groped. Let’s see how you like it.”_

_“I would, if I could, but I don’t do so well in hooker heels.”_

Their mission for the night was to stake out Zodiac, a private casino downtown owned by Dayanara Gemini. According to police records, the casino has been under investigation more than a few times for allegedly conning people out of their money and for serving as a front for a prostitution and escort ring. The team was sent here tonight to see if they could find any sort of evidence. Rusty, in particular, was gunning for the team to steal footage from the security cameras. But Zodiac’s system was pretty topnotch and they needed someone to get inside and tamper with the computers to give Rusty a way in.

Stiles was there as a customer because he was the only one in their team good at playing cards, really damn good. Stiles could see Allison at the other end of the casino. She was stifling a laugh and he knew it was more because of Erica and Rusty’s banter in her ear than the man she was currently pressed up against who was playing cards. At another corner of the room, Stiles saw Scott standing stiffly, covering as a junior bodyguard. He was frowning and obviously trying not to look at Allison’s direction. Erica and Willow were working as hostesses, flitting about the bar in short dresses and high heels and playing nice with the customers. Erica was occasionally muttering under her breath at Rusty, who was working as one of the on-floor maintenance crew and had the perfect excuse to wear earpieces and tinker with electronics.

Stiles swirled the drink in his glass, looking around the venue. He had already picked out three separate doorways, one of which led to the main office and two others leading off to more rooms. It was just their luck that Zodiac’s blueprints were inaccessible but there was a high chance that the security room was located near or probably at the main office. Stiles however wanted to be sure before he snuck in anywhere and risk getting caught.

_“Stiles, activity on your end,”_ Rusty spoke up. _“We got our girl.”_

Stiles’ eyes narrowed when he caught sight of the woman in question. She was in a black and white floor-length dress, completely backless with a plunging neckline and with a slit so high up that Stiles was surprised the whole dress didn’t just split open.

_“Heard something about a delivery of sorts coming in through the back and I can bet they’re of the human category,”_ Willow spoke up.

According to their sources, Miss Dayanara had a thing for younger men, as seen from the boy candy Ms. Dayanara was clinging to as she made her rounds among the high rollers. Stiles straightened his suit. He was up.

“Shall we?” he muttered.

_“Be careful, bro,”_ Scott spoke up softly.

Stiles made his way through the floor. He was wearing an understated blue suit so he wasn’t that noticeable or memorable, which was important, and while he wasn’t completely graceful, he knew he moved confidently enough.

_“You’re getting checked out, my man,”_ Rusty said.

Stiles didn’t look as he settled on a table, asking to be dealt in. He smiled at the dealer, spreading out a little on his seat. Stiles played for all of half an hour and he knew he was getting a bit of attention. He’s played three tables so far tonight and won at every turn. He noticed the change immediately when the dealer straightened, eyes flicking over Stiles’ shoulder once before she continued on with her work.

There was a soft tsk-ing near his ear and a ghost of a touch against his shoulder. “I do not tolerate the counting of cards.”

“Nor do I,” Stiles said. “I just count myself lucky tonight, I guess.” He turned around on his seat, and was faced with miles and miles of skin, curves, and a sexy grin. “Make that very lucky.”

Like damn. In another moment in time, like if Stiles wasn’t into somebody else of a different gender and did not condemn illegal activities, Stiles would drool over that.

Dayanara’s earlier boy was nowhere to be found. Stiles had to lean back on the table with his elbows as she leaned towards him, pressing her front along his.

“Can I have your name, my baby boy?” she asked, all red lipstick and lilting voice and deep brown eyes. She tilted her head, long hair accentuating her slim shoulders and long neck.

And ok, even if Stiles wasn’t really into her, he was still in danger of popping a boner.

“Miguel,” Stiles said, smiling back with all his boyish charm.

“You don’t look Spanish, baby,” she commented, smiling teasingly.

“Ah, that I don’t, madam,” Stiles responded in kind.

“I’ll let you finish your game,” Dayanara said. “Once you’re done, would you come see me, baby?”

Without waiting for a reply, Dayanara leaned over and kissed his cheek softly. She slipped something in his front pocket and then walked off, his swaying sensuously.

Stiles knew he immediately had the eye of the entire casino on him. He turned back to the table.

“I’ll bow out for now, please,” he said, nodding to the dealer. She nodded and doled out his earnings. As he waited, Stiles glanced around the casino.

And there was Derek looking back at him.

Holy shit.

Stiles immediately flushed, thoughts erupting in his mind. Why was Derek here? How long had Derek been there? How much had he seen? What did he think?

By the time Stiles gathered his bearings, Derek had disappeared.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The dealer gave him his winnings but now all Stiles wanted to do was run for it and find Derek. But he gave her his best smile and collected it. As he walked off to cash it in, he took a peek at the card in his pocket. It was Dayanara’s business card. He flipped the back and it said ‘Gemini Suite’, complete with a kiss mark.

Stiles headed for the suite in question and was directed into one of the two doorways he had been eyeing earlier. He looked back, noticing the concerned eyes of his team and then walked inside. The hallway was painted in red and gold with plush carpeting and led off into more hallways or into rooms.

Stiles barely made it past the first door when someone grabbed him and pulled him inside.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!”

Stiles felt relieved but also bristled at Derek’s tone.

“I’m working, asshole,” Stiles hissed, noticing that Derek was looking at him with anger and what was obviously concern. “And I should ask you the same thing!”

Derek growled, his hold on Stiles tightening. “Stiles, don’t follow through with this assignment. Get you and your team the fuck out of it. Don’t go up against Dayanara.”

“What?!” Stiles said, getting angry. “Don’t tell me how to do my job! And I’m asking you again, what are you doing here?”

Derek let him go and Stiles only then noticed where Derek had dragged him into.

They were in the security room.

“I do business and handle the security detail of Dayanara Gemini,” Derek said.

Stiles gaped. “Fuck. Then you… you have to know… you’re dealing with her?!” His voice grew shrill.

“Don’t be stupid,” Derek snapped at him. “I don’t deal with prostitutes.”

The door opened and Stiles almost panicked when he saw it was Boyd. Boyd didn’t even glance his way since he was busy dragging in Erica.

“Erica!” Stiles gaped.

“Let me go, you asshole!” Erica shouted , beating her fists against Boyd’s arm around her waist.

“Boss, we got this one trying to sneak in,” Boyd said.

When Derek waved a hand, Boyd dropped Erica. She glared at him, pointing a finger right at Boyd’s face.

“You’re lucky you didn’t hurt me or I would have hurt you back,” she hissed.

“I don’t hurt women,” Boyd said, deadpan and calm as ever. “And you’re lucky I found you. If one of Ms. Gemini’s men found you, you’d be in more trouble. Ms. Gemini is unkind to women.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Especially beautiful women.”

Erica’s anger wavered in the face of Boyd’s words and his serene expression and even Stiles was rendered speechless. Erica recovered fast. She huffed and turned to Stiles.

Stiles held her gently. “Erica, for fuck’s sake, why did you follow me?”

“I was worried!” Erica said, eyes widening. “Especially after Dayanara’s boy candy earlier disappeared so suddenly.”

“Miss Erica Reyes, it’s a pleasure to see you,” Derek said, nodding. “Again.”

“I can’t say the same thing,” Erica said, glaring at him.

“But the boy candy in question that you two are talking about have already been _offered_ to one of Miss Dayanara’s VIP guests.” Derek sent Stiles a meaningful look. Stiles felt his chest tighten at the implication.

Derek plowed on. “Now, as we speak, all the members of Blackstar Inc. are being escorted out of Zodiac.” He pointed to the security cameras and Stiles gaped to see from a few of them that Scott, Rusty, Allison, and Willow were indeed being talked to by some of Derek’s men. Stiles noticed Isaac among them.

“Derek,” Stiles hissed, jabbing a finger right at his chest. “This is our assignment! Don’t poke your nose–”

“This has been my assignment for years, Stiles,” Derek cut in harshly. “I know what your team is after and believe me, we can do more work than you can here. Drop this assignment and let us handle it.”

The door opened and someone walked in. Boyd and Derek suddenly flinched and Stiles immediately grabbed Erica, pulling her behind him. It was one of the guards and, if Stiles remembered correctly, it was one of Dayanara’s bodyguards and not of Derek’s.

“Mr. Hale, what’s going on?” he asked, looking at them suspiciously, eyes zeroing in on Stiles and Erica. They watched as his eyes widened in realization.

There was silence for a moment before the man stepped back and his hand immediately went to the walkie-talkie strapped to his waist.

Stiles hadn’t even blinked before Derek and Boyd were on him in an instant. Boyd had the man in an armlock and Derek was pressing the barrel of his gun to the man’s temple.

In that instant, Stiles couldn’t breathe.

This was the first time he’s seen Derek hold a gun. Even during his first encounter with the man, Stiles had never seen Derek with a gun.

Derek released the safety and it was like a shock to Stiles’ system. Because this was Derek, a firm and steady grip on the gun, with a finger on the trigger, and his stance solid and sure. Stiles could remember the ease with how his dad, the late Sheriff, and his deputies held a gun and he knew that look in Derek’s eyes. It was the look of a man who’s held a gun for ages, knew how to hold it and how to use it.

Derek’s eyes flashed, mouth set in a firm line. “Deal with him, Boyd. You know what to do.”

Boyd nodded, his hand on his gun holster, and dragged the struggling man out of the room.

Stiles froze. No. No way.

Derek turned to them, his eyes still razor-sharp and deadly for a split second before he seemed to have gotten a hold of himself and his green gaze turned blank.

But now he knew, now Stiles knew.

Stiles wrapped an arm around Erica and immediately ushered her out of the room. They ran out of Derek’s sight.

* * *

“Danny,” Derek spoke to his cellphone. “Confirm the tip we got about the Hummels. I don’t want them doing anything we’re not aware of.”

_“Yes, boss,”_ Danny said. _“I’ll call you in about an hour.”_

“Stay safe,” Derek cut the call.

Derek returned to his tablet, trying to keep his mind on work. But no matter how hard he tried, all he could think about was Stiles. The look on the younger man’s face when Derek turned to him after giving Boyd the order, after Derek showed him how easily and perfectly he could handle a gun, when Derek showed that side of him. It was the look in his eyes Derek would never, ever forget.

That look, that Stiles was scared of him.

Derek rubbed his face with a hand.

God, Stiles.

“We’re here, boss,” Boyd spoke up.

Derek stepped out of the car and walked inside his restaurant, Boyd following behind him. He walked up to the hostess, smiling at her.

“Evening, Roan.”

“Good evening, Mister Hale.” The hostess, Roan, bowed her head to him but when she looked up, she wasn’t smiling. “Your usual table, sir?” she asked, fidgeting a little uncomfortably.

Derek immediately turned wary. Behind him, he could sense Boyd tense up.

“Unless changes have been made?” Derek asked.

Roan nodded. “Your usual table, boss, and you have, er, a dinner date with some… associates.”

Derek kept his gaze on his nervous employee. He knew Boyd was scanning the restaurant.

“They’ve got balls,” Boyd murmured, low enough for only him to hear. “Guess who?”

Derek owned the restaurant and all of his personnel were personally hand-picked and unerringly loyal. It was definitely a ballsy move for them to just step in here and demand him to change his plans.

Derek growled under his breath. And here he thought he would have a moment of reprieve after the mess with Stiles and Gemini.

Derek reached over, patting Roan on the hand. Her tense demeanor lessened.

“I-I apologize, boss,” she muttered. “I didn’t know how to stop them.”

“Not your fault,” Derek said. “I shall see myself to my seat, then. Carry on.” He walked off, but not before murmuring, “And issue an alert, Roan, please. I want everyone alert and cautious.”

“Of course, boss,” Roan said, bowing her head and walking off.

Derek approached his usual corner booth, flanked by Boyd. An older woman and a far older man were already seated, champagne glasses on hand and chatting amiably. The woman spotted him and she smirked, leaning back on her seat. The older man turned, offering him a nod. Derek had no doubt they were both carrying guns on their persons. The Argents were always armed.

Derek offered a polite smile as he approached. “Victoria Argent, good evening.” He turned to the older man. “And it is a pleasure, Gerard Argent.”

* * *

Stiles was seated inside his jeep, munching almost mechanically on his hamburger and fries. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with other people today, so he had walked out of the house in the guise of a personal errand and parked himself in some secluded corner of the park with a hamburger, fries, and a soda.

As he ate, he thought long and hard.

What the fuck was he doing?

Stiles briefly closed his eyes, a mild sting erupting in his chest. He pressed his forehead to the steering wheel.

In a flash, he remembered what happened two days ago at Gemini with Derek hefting a gun like an expert, easy and quick and confident with the violence of it as he pointed it right at someone with the safety off, and ordering a man to his death.

He remembered how, for the first time, he felt a chill of fear when Derek looked at him.

“Fuck,” Stiles muttered, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes.

Goddammit. He didn’t even like Derek.

Ok, that was a lie. Because Stiles did like Derek. A lot. Very much.

Even though he knew, he _absolutely_ knew, that he shouldn’t. That Derek was not the person he appeared to be. He was a criminal through and through, only after information to get what he wanted.

And yet.

Stiles couldn’t help remembering all the other moments, the moments Derek would come to see him just because he wanted to, when they didn’t even talk about the people Stiles had to steal from or the other criminals Derek wanted to take advantage of, the moments when they’d settle at the back of his Rolls Royce and talk about the most random things. About how Derek owned a hotel, three restaurants, a bookstore, and a school. How he did not have a favorite color but preferred sky blue and forest green because it reminded him of the outdoors. How Derek liked drinking wine after a good day, and hot chocolate after the bad. How he had a scar on the inside of his right arm not from an altercation with some other criminal but because of an accident with a pizza cutter and Isaac.

Stiles sighed deeply, rubbing his face.

He yelped in shock when the passenger’s side door suddenly opened. In a second, he had his handy army knife pointed right at the intruder.

A woman sat down on the passenger seat.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Stiles shouted.

The woman had long dark hair, thin lips, and tan skin. She was wearing sunglasses to hide her face despite the fact that it was already evening, and she was in a brown jacket, a striped shirt underneath, and jeans.

Stiles kept his knife directed right at her. He knew better than to think this was some civilian. That door was locked and he was hiding out at a dark and secluded corner, goddammit!

Which in hindsight, was probably not a good thing to have done in the first place.

“Get out of my jeep!”

“Hello, Stiles,” she said instead, turning to him with a smile.

“Get out of my jeep,” Stiles said again, knife held tight in his hand. He was experienced with self-defense and would not hesitate to defend himself, but he had always felt queasy at the thought of deliberately harming someone.

She didn’t look threatened. She gave him a serious look over her sunglasses. “I need you to send a message to Derek Hale, darling.”

Stiles was so shocked, he almost dropped his knife. “W-What?”

The woman’s eyes lit up, knowing she hit a nerve. “I have it on good authority you were spotted getting out of his car.” She smirked. “Quite a few times might I add.”

“What the fuck are you saying? I’ve got nothing to do with Derek Hale! He’s a criminal!” Stiles shouted, trying to gather resolve. The hand with the knife was shaking a little. “Now get out of my goddamn jeep!”

The woman surged forward suddenly, cupping Stiles’ face between both palms before he could even move. The clatter of Stiles’ knife to the ground was a distant echo in his mind as he was pinned in place.  
She looked at him over the edge of her sunglasses.

“I know little boys like you and big boys like Derek,” she said, her voice low and smoky and dangerous. “Little boys like you get off on the dangerous, the fucked-up, the impossible. Big boys like Derek are all that and more.” She leaned forward, so close that the smallest shift would press their lips together. Her breath was hot against his face. “Send a message to him for me, would you, my sweet baby boy?”

Stiles didn’t move, or speak, didn’t even breathe. The woman tilted her head, lips brushing his cheek.

“Tell Derek Hale that I’ll be coming to get him,” she said. “Him and his loyal pups.”

With that said, she gave him one last smirk and back off, opening the door.

Stiles tried to say something back, but all he could do was utter a shaky, “W-Who are you?”

She smirked, wide and malicious, winking at him over her glasses.

“You’ll figure it out, baby boy.”

With that said, she slid out of the jeep.

* * *

Victoria was in a cherry red dress that matched her lipstick and handbag. Gerard was in a smart, pale grey suit.

Derek never wanted to kill two people more than he did at that moment. Add in Kate Argent, and he’d have had the complete package.

“Good evening,” Derek greeted them. He sat down on a seat and then waved towards Boyd. He nodded and left.

“Derek Hale.” Victoria smiled, predatory and without humor. “You’ve grown into a fine young man.”

Derek shrugged. “I’ve looked after myself the past years.”

“Since no one else would,” Gerard interjected, smirking, all teeth and malice.

Derek gripped his pants leg and gave him a chilly smile. “Ah, that was in the past, considering I now have an army of loyal men at my command, Gerard.”

“We can certainly see that.” Gerard let out a laugh, glancing around the room. No doubt the Argents also had spies of their own inside Derek’s restaurant, and the thought made Derek’s skin crawl.

“How have you been?” Victoria asked, sipping her drink. “Hale Enterprises have been sweeping the country, I’ve heard.”

Derek paused to let a passing waiter pour him some champagne. “It’s looking up, with a net worth large enough that I don’t know how to handle all that money, and with loyal men, and a lengthy list of clientele. You?” Derek’s tone was conversational, even if his eyes were full of hatred. “You have spent the past years in Asia, if I’m correct? China, Japan, and recently Hong Kong. How was it?”

“Very lucrative,” Victoria said, letting out a delighted peal of laughter. “Korea, most of all was quite interested in what we have to offer.”

Derek hid a wince. The Argents would offer any and all ammunitions to the highest bidder, terrorist or not, suicidal or not, for rebels and war or not.

God, he hated them.

“We have contacts in the Middle East,” Victoria continued. “And we’re hoping to expand to Europe soon.”

Derek nodded. “Well, I certainly don’t wish you luck.”

“Why? Hoping to enter their market yourself?” Gerard asked. He placed his elbows on the table, smile serene but threatening. “We’ve heard about your dealings and how you’re the middleman to almost the entire underground empire in this city, Derek. Quite impressive. Who would have thought the son of the late and great prosecutor, Talia Hale, and the late and decorated Naval commander, Richard Hale, would turn to the dark side?”

“What would your parents say, Derek?” Victoria tilted her head to the side, looking at him with every ounce of wickedness.

Derek’s composure cracked. “I don’t know. You burned them to death. I hardly think they’d have an opinion now, don’t you?”

Victoria’s eyes flashed and Gerard laughed loud enough for a few people nearby to look their way.

“Kate has always been full of comments on your sour demeanor,” Gerard said. “But I see your sense of humor has improved.”

Just the mention of that name had Derek itching to punch the man’s face in.

Victoria tapped her blood-red nails on the table. “Moving on from the fun stuff, this is a bit more than just a social visit, Derek.”

“I figured,” Derek said coldly. “What do you want?”

“We want you to back off,” Victoria said, leaning forward. “I applaud your skills in weaseling your way into gaining power and more than a little leverage, but this city is Argent territory.”

“It is not my problem you couldn’t look after your supposed territory, Victoria,” Derek said. “And I know the only reason you feel so threatened is because it’s me, of all people.”

“We’re not threatened by you, you dog,” Victoria growled at him.

“You may have your little business company and your few allies and your handsome plaything, but don’t be so full of yourself.” Gerard suddenly smirked, deranged. “And by the way, it is relatively easy to get to him, Derek. Kate can attest to that.”

Victoria grabbed her bag and pulled out a few pictures, placing it delicately in front of Derek.

Derek’s heart stopped.

There was Stiles, working the cashier at 7-11 during his night shift. The picture was taken through the shop window and Stiles was busy talking to a customer. The second picture on the other hand was of Stiles up close. Stiles was holding out a bag, a polite smile on his face. The angle meant the camera was taken from somewhere below, probably a hidden camera in the photographer’s pocket as he purchased something.

Derek didn’t bother hiding his animosity for them on his face.

“Stay away from him. If you touch him just to get to me, if Kate fucking touches a hair on his head, I will rip you apart.”

Victoria waved a hand. “When Kate found out about him, we first thought he was just some boy of yours, quite a looker with a very pretty mouth. But it seems he’s actually quite interesting, your boy.”

She pulled out some more pictures. The first one showed Stiles, still at 7-11, but there was someone with him, sitting on the counter as they both laughed. It was Allison. The second picture showed them both again, arm-in-arm and with ice cream cones as they crossed the street. The third one showed them with Scott at the park seated on the grass. Stiles was leaning back on his arms and Allison was seated in between Scott’s legs. The fourth picture was just of Scott and Allison, still at that park, and they were kissing. The fifth picture was just of Allison, reading a book in a café.

The truth slammed into Derek before Victoria even spoke.

Victoria’s voice was simmering with anger. “Turns out your pleasure doll is hanging out with my daughter, Allison.”

Derek’s brain was whirring a mile a minute. That explained it. That was why Allison’s personal information was so hard to find. She wasn’t Allison Reed. She was the long-lost Argent heiress, the daughter of Chris and Victoria Argent and successor to the Argent arms empire.

Derek knew the stories, how the loss of a successor created a dent on the Argent family’s business. Their clientele didn’t want to risk associating with them anymore after they found out an Argent daughter of all people did not want to get involved in their business. And after word got out that the Argents themselves couldn’t find hide nor hair of her, their clients were scared Allison might report them to the authorities. That was why the Argents had left the city for the past years and traveled Asia, to find clientele untainted by the news of their lost daughter.

And here she was, alive and well.

Part of Derek had no doubt it was Cass’s influence that had kept Allison’s real identity under wraps, even from the Argents themselves.

Gerard shrugged. “Well, the kid’s flipped her lid. Nothing we can do. She was given a choice to get involved, she didn’t. She probably got it from Chris. Gentle-hearted and noble.” He scoffed. “But thing is, Derek, she is bad for business and you know how I always want things wrapped up into a neat bow.”

Derek flinched when Victoria gripped his wrist, her nails sinking into his skin. She leaned towards him.

“Chris and I want our baby girl back, Derek,” Victoria whispered, eyes wild. “And I will get her back, even if I have to rip your boy toy apart to get to her.”

* * *

“Stiles? Earth to Stilinski!”

Stiles snapped up from his plate of now-soggy TV dinner. He looked up at the rest of the table, who was looking at him oddly, especially Scott.

“I’m fine, sorry,” Stiles said. “I’m just tired.” He stood up. “Thanks for the food, Willow.”

“What’s up, Stiles? Not hungry?” Willow asked, pursing her lips with worry.

“Not right now,” Stiles said, smiling weakly. “I’ll eat later.” He walked out before the others could start questioning him.

Stiles had just hip-checked his door to get it to close when someone pushed it open. He turned to see Scott.

“Scott, I swear I’m fine,” Stiles said, trying to dredge up a smile. “I just have this–”

“Dude, you’re not fine.” Scott snorted. “Don’t lie to me.”

Stiles winced at the look on Scott’s face.

“You’re always gone. You always sneak off. You’re hardly ever around,” Scott suddenly said. “Where are you going? What have you been doing? Why haven’t you been telling me anything?” Scott sounded curious, but more than that he was hurt.

Stiles froze. He might have had the illusion that he was being a bit sneaky, but he knew he wasn’t, not really. He just didn’t think about it, didn’t think about anybody noticing, didn’t think about telling anybody. Not even Scott, the one person Stiles knew he loved and trusted to his very soul.

“I… Scott, I’m not–”

“Yes, you are,” Scott said. “And the thing is you’re not telling me.” The hurt was so clear on his face, Stiles had to reach for his best friend.

It felt like a punch in the face when Scott stepped back.

Scott didn’t meet his eyes. “Ever since Allison found out her family’s been back, she’s been drifting away from me, always thinking and worrying, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. And then there’s you too, always sneaking off and thinking about something and for once in my life, I don’t know what about.”

“Scott, buddy, it’s not that I don’t want to tell you.” Stiles bit his lip. “It’s not.”

“Then what is it?” Scott asked, frustration and hurt marring his features. “What’s going on with you that you’re not telling me about? What is it?”

“It’s who, Scott,” Stiles blurted out. “Who, not what.”

Scott’s eyes widened. “…who?”

Stiles fidgeted in place. “I just… me and… and he… I…”

“You’re seeing someone?” Scott asked, still wide-eyed.

Stiles winced. “…I might be.”

“Who is it?” Scott asked.

“… I can’t tell you,” Stiles said, wincing when Scott’s face immediately shut down.

“Why not?”

Because he’s a criminal. Because he’s dangerous. Because he can kill me, can kill you, can kill all of us.

“Because I don’t know how I feel about him.”

Silence descended in the room, thick and sudden.

Scott was obviously shocked, eyes wide and mouth in a small O. But Stiles was more shocked than he was.

Without a word, Stiles grabbed his bag and ran past Scott. He vaguely heard Scott calling out for him, and then Erica and Rusty too when they noticed the commotion, but Stiles simply ran out of the house.

He ran on automatic, not knowing nor caring where his feet took him. He only slowed down when his breathing started getting more labored and he had to slow down into an aimless walk. It was the middle of the afternoon so there were a lot of people around and the neighborhood was safe. He reached the edge of the block, gasping a little for breath, and waited for the traffic light to turn. Once the all-clear was there, Stiles made to cross.

That’s when he saw the unmarked Rolls Royce across the street.

Stiles turned around and ducked into the crowd. He didn’t look back.

Even before his sudden burst of emotion at Scott, he’d been actively trying to avoid Derek, had been since he met that woman three days ago.

It was equal parts fear for and of Derek.

Stiles knew Derek could take care of himself, but he couldn’t help being concerned about him having to face that psycho, whoever the fuck she was. Because Stiles wasn’t stupid. He knew Derek actually liked him, or at least liked fooling around with him. And while Stiles knew he probably wasn’t much of a pressure point for the man, he didn’t want to give anyone any reasons or leverage to hurt Derek.

And Stiles knew he wasn’t scared of Derek, not exactly, not really, because Stiles had always been reckless and foolish in that manner, picking fights even when he probably couldn’t win them. But after getting to know Derek more, Stiles was more scared about how attached he was being. How attached he still was even after that episode at Zodiac.

Which was why he’s chosen the more passive path and just avoided the man.

Stiles decided to go into the convenience store and get ice cream, peeking over his shoulder with relief to see no Rolls Royce in sight. He walked in, reveling in the air conditioning, and made his way to the back to the freezers.

He had been musing between rocky road and chocolate chip when someone grabbed his arm and pulled.

“Hey! What’s the big deal, asshole?” Stiles said. He froze when he saw who it was.

Jackson Whittemore was glaring at him to kill, looking pristine and out of place in a convenience store with his rich kid’s white polo shirt and black dress pants. He started tugging on Stiles’ arm and Stiles was so surprised to see Jackson of all people that he ended up shuffling along, ice cream forgotten.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jackson was hissing at him. “Don’t you realize what a pain in the ass you’re being? You are giving us more work than we need to! We don’t need to be babysitting your ass!”

Jackson was talking and walking so fast and Stiles was left bumbling along as he was pulled through the back door and directed him straight to a black Camaro parked right outside.

“E-Excuse me?!” Stiles asked, still stunned.

Jackson just unceremoniously dumped him inside and Stiles was left gaping and waiting for the man as he walked around to get into the driver’s seat. Jackson’s tirade didn’t even stop as he got inside and strapped himself in.

“–being pulled out from a fucking important business meeting to grab your sorry ass, I mean god!” Jackson muttered.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” Stiles shouted, finally regaining his senses.

Jackson glared at him. “I’m taking you to Derek, you moron! Weren’t you listening?”

Stiles jerked in shock. “What the fuck are you…” He stopped, eyes widening in realization.

“You work for Derek,” he gasped out.

Jackson rolled his eyes and pointed to his back. Through the white cotton of his polo, Stiles could vaguely see the black swirl of a tattoo on the back of Jackson’s right shoulder, the Hale triskele.

“Congratulations, genius,” Jackson said, rolling his eyes again and starting the car. He pulled out of the parking lot fast. Stiles struggled to put on his seatbelt.

“You… You…” Stiles swallowed. He was still having trouble processing things, how Jackson of all people was a possible ally instead of a douchebag rich kid. Stiles latched onto the first thought that came to mind. “Jackson, you can’t take me to Derek!”

Jackson growled under his breath. “I can and I will. If I don’t do this, both Lydia and Derek will kill me. So settle down and shut up!”

Stiles shut up, but only for a minute as something dawned on him, something that’s been niggling at him for weeks now. “Is that why you let me take your mom’s painting? Did Derek put you up to it?”

Jackson gave him a look so scathing that Stiles almost cowered in his seat.

“She is my stepmother, never my mom,” Jackson spat out. “And Derek or not, I don’t really fucking care who takes that bitch’s damn painting.” His glare lessened just a teeny bit in intensity. “Though there are perks to having the boss’s boy toy do the job for us.”

Stiles was punching Jackson’s arm before the thought of crashing the car registered. He hit the ball of Jackson’s shoulder. Jackson jerked but thankfully he had steady enough hands that the car didn’t end up swerving badly.

“I’m not Derek’s boy toy, you asshole!” Stiles hissed at him.

Jackson looked deeply offended, rubbing his shoulder, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t apologize though and Stiles settled in his seat, arms crossed, and seethed. Jackson didn’t say anything back and they drove on in silence. It was broken only by Jackson’s phone.

“Yeah?” Jackson said, answering the call. Stiles felt him glancing his way. “Yeah, tell Derek I got him.”

As soon as Jackson got off the call, Stiles rounded on him. If there was somebody he could question to death right now, Jackson was it.

“What does Derek do?”

Jackson looked confused for a second before he returned to his default bitch face. He didn’t say a word.

“What does he do, Jackson? I know he’s a criminal.” He noticed Jackson wince at that and it made him angry. “He makes deals with other criminals, right? I thought it’s your stepmother who’s smuggling goods and paying off terrorists? You look like an ass, but you don’t exactly scream evil mastermind. Why the fuck is Derek helping you? Why are you working for him? Nothing is adding up here!”

Jackson’s frown suddenly softened. “I’m not the best person to talk to about this. Trust me. All you have to know is that Derek deals with people. He knows people’s secrets, what they do, who they are, and he–“

“Exploits them,” Stiles cut in.

“Within reason,” Jackson corrected him. “You and I are not friends, Stilinski. But here’s a bit of advice for you.”

Stiles knew what it was before Jackson even said it.

“Stay away from Derek. You don’t know him. You’re just going to get in the way.”

“In the way of what? Of all his criminal enterprise?” Stiles deadpanned.

Jackson blew out a breath. His patience was obviously wearing thin but he was also still trying to keep it in check. “You don’t even know him. You have no idea what he wants or why he’s doing what he’s doing. You look a good guy or whatever, but don’t be naïve. This isn’t your world. Duck your head until the mess blows over and maybe then.” He paused. “And maybe then.”

Stiles flailed. “I don’t understand what you’re saying!”

Jackson suddenly stopped the car and Stiles jerked forward, almost getting strangled by his seatbelt. He looked out the window to see why they’ve stopped. They were already right in front of Derek’s hotel.

* * *

“Jackson!” Lydia said, stomping up to the man as he dragged Stiles with him into the office.

“Got him,” Jackson said. “Tell Isaac and Boyd to call off the search.”

Lydia was already firing off the text. She nodded to Jackson, rubbing his forearm in thanks, and then turned to Stiles. She stepped towards him close enough to inspect him but not enough to alarm.

“Are you ok?” she asked Stiles, voice soft but firm.

Stiles looked like a deer caught in headlights, but he nodded slowly. “You’re the one he was with,” he said softly. “You’re the woman Derek was with during Scarlett Whittemore’s exhibit.”

“This introduction has been long overdue, I know.” Lydia nodded. “Lydia Martin, Derek’s right-hand. It’s a pleasure, Stiles.”

Stiles looked at the both of them. “I can’t exactly say the same thing,” he said warily.

“As long as you’re fine,” Lydia said. She looked at him closely. “We know what happened at the park with your jeep, the woman who talked to you.” She noticed Stiles wince, despite how he tried to hide it. “We weren’t able to respond in time. If we got close, we were worried she’d harm you. And we couldn’t risk making contact after she left. What happened? Are you all right?”

“Who was she?” Stiles asked instead.

Lydia let out a sigh while Jackson tensed. “That was Kate Argent.”

Stiles looked like he was punched in the gut and he let out a rush of breath. Stiles obviously knew who she was, but Lydia knew he didn’t know everything. Still, it was enough that Stiles now understood how his life was most likely in danger at the time, especially if Kate had been feeling ‘playful’.

“She had a message for Derek,” Stiles said, voice shaking. He took a breath. “Tell Derek Hale that I’ll be coming for him. Him and his loyal pups.”

Lydia let out a soft growl of anger. Jackson started cursing under his breath.

That fucking bitch.

“The boss is going to flip when he hears this,” Jackson said.

“At least now he’ll calm down a bit,” Lydia said. She motioned to Stiles. “Come on, Stiles. He’s in his office and you can–”

“I can’t.”

Lydia stopped, looking in surprise at the man. Stiles’ jaw was tense, his eyes hard.

“You guys shouldn’t have even brought me here,” Stiles said.

Lydia glared at him. “Stiles, Derek has been looking all over for you. Which reminds me, why haven’t you been meeting him? He’s been near off his rocker ever since we found out Kate confronted you.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t want to see him!” Stiles suddenly hissed at her.

Lydia’s eyes widened and Jackson looked ready to punch Stiles. She grabbed Jackson’s arm, glaring at him to calm down.

“Kate threatened Derek, Miss Martin,” Stiles said. “She knows about… about me and Derek. And I know you both do too. Hell, I suspect your entire mafia group knows.” He took a breath. “I know the Argents. I know they’d probably kill me. And I admit that Kate woman is scary enough. And I know you guys are a couple of big and bad criminals but I… it’s not like I want Derek to die. And with you bringing me here, you’re just giving her something over him.”

Lydia looked at him, at the fire in his eyes.

Now she knew what Derek saw in the man.

“Stiles, the only people who know about you and Derek are Derek’s most trusted men,” Lydia said gently. “Derek has been careful, more than careful, to make sure no one found out about you for your safety.” She frowned. “I take full responsibility for what happened with Kate. I should have anticipated them monitoring Derek so closely, and then you by extension.”

“Why are you fighting against the Argents?” Stiles suddenly asked.

Lydia paused. She looked at him.

Jackson snorted. “He’s definitely nosy.”

Lydia nudged him at that. She turned back to Stiles, who was looking between them in interest.

“That’s not my question to answer. I’m sorry.”

Stiles was obviously unsatisfied with that, jaw clenching and hands turning into fists.

“Do you want to see Derek?” Lydia asked.

Stiles looked conflicted and worried, and that made Lydia even more sure of why exactly Derek came to adore Genim Stilinski.

Stiles nodded slowly. “Yeah, I do.”

* * *

Derek had both palms on his desk, glaring at the paperwork in front of him.

Worry was gnawing at Derek’s bones. He hadn’t seen Stiles in three days now ever since they found out Kate had made contact with him at around the same time Gerard and Victoria confronted Derek. According to reports, Stiles seemed fine. He had gone home after the incident and Kate didn’t seem to have hurt him. But Derek was tied up at his office on full alert and attending to his businesses after realizing that the Argents were gunning for him full force and he hadn’t been able to personally see that Stiles was all right. He worried even more after finding out Stiles avoided getting into the Rolls Royce whenever Isaac tailed him.

Derek just wanted to see him, touch him, make sure he was all right and that the Argents didn’t harm him.

There was a knock on his door and it opened quickly. Derek didn’t even bother to check.

“Lydia, I thought I told you not to bother me until you’ve–” Derek looked up and his words were stuck in his throat.

Lydia and Jackson were there, and behind them was Stiles.

“We found him, boss,” Lydia said.

Derek looked at him from head to toe. Stiles was there, in his blue hoodie and jeans and sneaker. There was no mark on him, no injuries, or bruises. He was safe. Alive.

“Stiles,” Derek choked out.

“Derek.”

Lydia and Jackson were quickly out the door as Derek rounded his desk and grabbed the younger man, ready to take him in his arms.

But Stiles held back, looking tensed and worried.

“Derek,” Stiles said, serious. “Derek, I told Lydia. Kate was–”

“She shouldn’t have touched you,” Derek growled, his hold on Stiles’ arms tightening a fraction. “She shouldn’t have even seen you. You shouldn’t have even met her, Stiles.” He cupped Stiles’ face between his hands, looking at those brown eyes. Stiles looked worried, but they shone with light and fire.

Stiles was still Stiles, his spirit not the least bit intimidated by Kate’s threats.

“She said she’s coming for you, Derek,” Stiles whispered. “She’s coming for you and your men. She said so.” His voice broke at the end and it made something inside Derek splinter with worry.

Derek shushed him gently and placed light kisses along his jaw. Stiles’ hands came up to his shoulders, gripping him hard enough to hurt. They clung to each other, Derek’s arms around Stiles’ waist and Stiles wrapping his long arms around Derek’s shoulders. Their foreheads were pressed together, the relief and worry near-tangible in the air between them.

“I’m sorry Kate got to you, Stiles. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not afraid of her.” Stiles gave him a sharp look. “I’m worried, but I’d take her on if I had to.”

“You don’t have to,” Derek insisted.

Stiles only rolled his eyes at him. “You might have an army with you but I’m not some… some… some weak boy toy that needs your protection.”

Derek felt taken aback by what he said. That wasn’t…

One of the thing Derek liked most about Stiles was that he was brave, always fighting, never backing down from a challenge despite knowing the odds are stacked against him. He was not a boy toy. Never.

A growl emanated from him. His eyes turned cold and angry.

“They’re dangerous, Stiles,” Derek said, almost by reflex. Because it was true.

But Derek realized that was exactly the wrong thing to say when Stiles suddenly tensed, straightening and disentangling himself from Derek, stepping back.

“The Argents are dangerous,” Stiles said, voice monotonous. He looked Derek in the eye. “And you aren’t?”

Derek felt as if he was punched in the gut.

“I… I am…”

“You’re all criminals. You’re all dangerous people,” Stiles suddenly said, stepping back once more. “What makes you guys any different from one another?”

Derek’s answer was immediate. “I would never hurt you. Never.”

Stiles’ eyes lit up with something that had Derek’s throat tightening, something like hope.

How could Stiles ever think that? That Derek would hurt him?

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“Stay with me tonight,” Derek said.

Stiles looked taken aback, as he should. They were many things, occasional allies, often enemies, friends with benefits, but to stay over, to be with one another for no other reason than to _be together_ , that was not them.

Derek knew he was digging his grave with this request, but he could remember the ugly curl of Victoria’s lip, Gerard’s mocking laughter, could perfectly imagine Kate’s evil sneer.

The thought of Kate getting close, too close to Stiles, had Derek’s hands balling into fists.

“Please,” he whispered.

Stiles looked at him, eyes wide.

Derek could feel his heart sinking in his chest and he had to look away.

He shouldn’t have. He really shouldn’t have.

The next thing he knew, Stiles was in his arms, arms wrapping tightly around Derek’s waist and Stiles pressing their foreheads together. Derek’s arms came around him instantly. He held him tight and concentrated on this feeling, this warmth, the feeling of Stiles’ against him.

“Ok, Derek,” Stiles whispered. “I’ll stay with you.”


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles arrived back home, just in time to see two unmarked black jeeps park themselves on the street. He barely had time to get his wits about him before he saw men and women dressed in black get out of the jeeps and head straight for his house.
> 
> They were all carrying guns.
> 
> “Shit.”
> 
> Stiles ran.
> 
> \---
> 
> Stiles looked like he was slapped hard across the face. He pushed his chair back, hands splayed across the tabletop, his form trembling. “Y-You and Derek are working together.”
> 
> “Not quite,” Cass said. “We are aware of each other and we don’t get in one another’s way, that’s all.”
> 
> “But he’s a criminal,” Stiles protested weakly.
> 
> Cass looked at him and she saw the moment Stiles realized the truth.

When Derek asked him to stay, Stiles didn’t know what to expect.

Derek’s office was on the first floor and he took Stiles right up to the top floor where the suites for him and his team were located. Derek’s suite was at the far end and he led Stiles inside, never once letting go of his hand.

Stiles hadn’t noticed when the late afternoon had tapered off into early evening and when he walked inside the room, he was surprised to see the floor-to-ceiling wall of glass situated right across the front door showing the slowly darkening skies off in the horizon. It was a breathtaking sight.

Derek let go of his hand and Stiles looked around, somewhat mesmerized.

Across the front door was the living room and the wall of glass. There was a black leather couch with loveseats and matching throw pillows messily laid around. There was a wooden coffee table in the middle covered almost entirely with books and papers and a laptop. There was a widescreen TV and a surround sound system to the right with shelves of DVDs. There were more shelves on the wall to the left filled to the brim with books, some of them half-falling off the shelves, stacked the wrong side out, or placed horizontally instead of upright.

Stiles dropped his backpack and walked deeper inside the suite, trailing his fingers lightly against the back of the couch. He could feel Derek’s hot and heavy gaze on his back. He sauntered over to the bookshelves, almost absentmindedly pushing books back into place. He straightened a throw pillow on his way over to the glass wall and looked out over the scenery, comforted by the sight. He looked towards Derek at the other end of the room.

Derek’s suite was not how Stiles picture it to be. Before this moment, he had always thought of Derek going for something simple and uncluttered, all Spartan rooms and minimalist décor. But now that Stiles had seen this, homey and messy and typical, he couldn’t imagine Derek being anything else.

Derek stood there, watching him. He looked as composed as ever with his dapper suit and perfectly coifed hair, but his eyes were the exact opposite. Derek looked at him with something wild and raw in his eyes.

Derek walked slow and sure towards him, eyes never leaving his. When he was close enough, he pressed Stiles up against the wall, the glass cool against his back through his thin shirt. Derek leaned forward and pressed their foreheads, his forearms bracketing Stiles’ head and caging Stiles in with his warm and solid body.

Right here, in Derek’s domain, Stiles felt closer to Derek than before, like this man in front of him wasn’t the unreachable and untouchable leader of a criminal enterprise, but just an ordinary man Stiles possibly, maybe, most likely, had feelings for.

Derek moved closer, capturing Stiles lips in the gentlest kiss they’ve ever shared, a long, warm, and comforting press of their mouths that had Stiles sighing when they pulled away moments later. Derek ran a thumb gently at the curve of one cheekbone and pressed a quick chaste kiss to his lips.

“I’ll make us dinner,” Derek said, voice warm and smooth as honey.

“I guess you won then,” Stiles said, lifting a hand to tug on a lock of Derek’s hair. “You finally got to have dinner with me.”

“It’s not about winning anything,” Derek said. “I just want you.”

Stiles’ breath caught in his throat at that and he had to lean forward and kiss Derek once more.

Derek gave him a small smile. “I’ll be in the kitchen in case you need anything. Make yourself at home.” After one last peck on the cheek, he walked off down the hall.

Stiles didn’t know what to do at first, overwhelmed with the idea of being left at Derek’s personal abode to do whatever he wanted. He decided to look around at first, get a feel of where he was.

A quick peek at the hall Derek entered gave him a view of the dining room that held an eight-seater table Stiles was pretty sure they didn’t use for meals because the table was covered with newspapers, folders, and papers. On the other end was an impressive kitchen with a minibar and a spacious dining room. The kitchen looked used and there were even a few plates and a mug stacked inside the sink. Derek was peering into the fridge, one hand tugging his tie loose.

It only then registered in Stiles’ mind that Derek said he would be _making_ dinner.

Derek tossed his tie on the counter and then reached out for a black apron. The sight of it made Stiles’ heart stutter a little and he had to look away. This was too real, too comfortable, too domestic. He walked back out and headed down the other hall. It led directly to Derek’s bedroom.

In contrast to the other rooms, Derek’s bedroom was completely neat, all navy blue and grey with a large queen-sized bed and matching side tables. There was a window at the other wall with the blinds pulled up to show the starless sky. There was a tall bookshelf and a small two-seater table with rounded chairs. There were framed photos but Stiles held back his curiosity. There was a large walk-in closet and Stiles couldn’t help entering it and running his hands through the rows of suits and chuckling at the occasional sweater, jumper, jeans, and once a leather jacket. It smelled completely of Derek and his cologne and Stiles had to resist the urge to curl up on the carpeted floor and stick his nose inside one of his shirts.

It wasn’t long before Stiles wandered into the adjoining bathroom. It was all pale blue tiles with gold trim, a wall-length mirror, rows of towels, a gleaming tub, and a shower stall with sliding glass doors. Stiles touched everything, opening and closing the bottles on the sink, taking time to smell Derek’s aftershave and cologne.

In a split-second decision, Stiles took off his clothes, folded them, and set them on the counter neatly. He reached into the shower and fiddled with the golden knobs. He didn’t even battle this sudden urge, just decided to step inside, wash away all the grime and dirt, and let the warm water soothe his tense muscles.

Stiles had been standing under the spray for a while when he heard the door creak open. He was facing the spray but the glass door meant there was almost nothing Derek couldn’t see of his naked form. He kept his eyes closed, didn’t even react when he heard the rustle of cloth and the soft pads of bare feet. He heard the door slide open and only opened his eyes when he felt strong arms wind around his torso.

“You look so good,” Derek whispered against his ear.

Stiles shivered. The slide of Derek’s skin against his back was delicious.

Derek pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Wish you could be here all the time.”

“I-I want that,” Stiles murmured back.

“Yeah?” Derek asked, one hand stroking against Stiles’ stomach, the muscles quivering under his touch. “You’d stay here? With me?”

“I-I would. I’d like that,” Stiles said softly, leaning his head back against Derek’s shoulder.

Because like this, right now, all Stiles could feel was safety and warmth, could hold onto Derek without worrying about anything else, no assignments to do, people to deal with, or people to run away from. It was just them.

Derek nuzzled against his neck sweetly, pressing little kisses against the damp skin. Stiles absolutely melted, letting Derek take his weight and fitting their bodies together. He could feel Derek’s erection, hard and heavy, pressing against his ass. Stiles rolled his hips a little, until Derek slid against the middle of his cheeks in the most tantalizing of sensations. He could hear their twin groans of pleasure.

“Stiles,” Derek whispered.

Stiles turned around in his arms, leaning back on the wall and ignoring the cool tiles against his back.

“Derek.”

Some would call Derek scary, and maybe Stiles felt that way before, but in reality Derek just had a dangerous sort of beauty. In a way, that was probably what caught Stiles’ attention, because Stiles always loved playing and poking with what he shouldn’t, but standing here in the shower with him, Derek looked far from scary or dangerous.

Derek’s damp hair was plastered to his face, a litany of small scars adored his strong body, and there was the fine sprinkling of dark hair along his arms and legs. His cock was standing to attention, proud and ready, and his eyes were lighter and warmer than Stiles had ever seen them. Derek had a small smile on his face and right here, right now, he looked young and content and all for Stiles.

Derek was also taking the time to just look at him, eyes raking over every bit of Stiles from head to toe, lingering on the constellations of moles across his torso, and the childhood scar he had on his right hip, and then licking his lips more than a bit excitedly when his eyes fell on Stiles’ erect cock. Stiles fought down a blush, biting back a nervous giggle.

By some unspoken signal, they surged towards one another, lips smashing together in a heated and ferocious kiss.

This was a lot different from their previous kisses. This was more real, more intense, more emotion, just _more_. Stiles could only dig his nails onto Derek’s shoulders as he was almost completely devoured. Derek was kissing him without holding back, all heat and determination in the firm press of his mouth, the tantalizing bite of teeth, and the indulgent sweep of his tongue. There was something almost desperate and bittersweet about it.

“I’m right here, Derek,” Stiles whispered against his lips. “I’m with you.”

Derek kissed him, lips sliding along his chin and teeth nipping lightly along the curve of his jaw.

“You’re here. You’re safe. With me.” Derek pressed closer to him, the sensation made more pleasurable by the dampness of their bodies.

Stiles groaned as their erections rubbed against each other, damp from both water and the slow trickle of precome. Derek gripped one thigh firmly in one hand and pinned Stiles’ hip on the wall with the other. Stiles gasped when Derek hoisted his leg up, guiding it to twine around Derek’s hip. It put their groins at just the right angle to create the sweetest friction.

“Fuck, Derek.” Stiles gasped and when Derek rolled his hips just so, he mewled. His hands were unable to find purchase along Derek’s wet back so he settled for wrapping long arms around his neck, his temple to Derek’s cheek.

Derek’s heavy breathing was harsh against his ear and when he felt Derek press his lips in a gentle kiss to his ear, Stiles shivered.

“You feel so good,” Derek said.

Derek hitched his hips against Stiles and Stiles jolted, lips parting in a harsh breath. Sparks of pleasure were skittering across his spine and he wanted more of it.

“Derek,” Stiles moaned.

Derek reached out, turning the shower off, and then threaded the fingers of his hand into Stiles’ damp hair, tugging his head back and kissing him harsh and bruising.

Derek’s eyes were dark and his expression was intense. “I’ve wanted this since the first time I kissed you.”

Stiles let out a soft whimper when Derek started kissing a path down to his neck. “Y-Yep, a first k-kiss..” He gasped. “…without my consent. Y-You’re an ass.”

“I couldn’t resist.” Derek chuckled. He licked Stiles’ neck before sinking his teeth hard enough to bruise and making Stiles keen.

Derek continued his downward path, kissing and licking along Stiles’ collar bones and chest and Stiles could only hold on for dear life, one hand buried in Derek’s hair and the other hand flung out to press a shaky hand against the shower’s glass door. Derek’s mouth was warm against his skin, his teeth and tongue teasing and tantalizing with each kiss and soft bite. His hand was warm along his thigh, a grounding point for Stiles as Derek slowly drove him crazy.

“…won’t… won’t last long,” Stiles said, breathing raggedly. “I have to… just want… don’t want to last long. Just let me come, Derek.”

Derek groaned and leaned up, pressing a few brief kisses against Stiles’ lips.

“Come here.”

Derek stepped back, letting Stiles sag against the wall. He turned around and Stiles felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of the Hale triskelion tattooed prominently between Derek’s shoulder blades. He reached out with one hand, fingers fanning across the tattoo.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

Derek looked back, the corner of his lips edging into a smile. He tugged Stiles by the hip until he was pressed all along Derek’s back. Stiles groaned loud and long when Derek widened his stance, gently took hold of his cock, and then slipped it between his own legs.

“Oh, f-fuck.” Stiles whimpered at the sensation, feeling the silky underside of Derek’s balls against his cock. He could feel Derek quivering under his hand and he had to brace one arm on the wall by Derek’s head to resist the temptation to start pistoning his hips into that tantalizing heat.

Derek had his forearms against the wall, his back slightly bowed, and he was looking back at Stiles. His expression almost made Stiles cum on the spot. His hair was messy and damp across his forehead, his face was sweaty, and a deep flush spanned across his cheekbones and neck. His eyes were starting to glaze over and his mouth was half-open as he panted.

“S-Stiles, move.” Derek’s voice was low and broken. “P-please.”

Stiles’ brain practically short-circuited. “F-Fuck. Goddammit.”

That prompted Stiles into action. He started slow, his hips making neat little thrusts in and out of the softness between Derek’s legs. Derek’s groans were low and obscene, making Stiles flush and his heart stutter at each sound. He would never have expected this, that Derek would let him have this, would trust him with this.

This wasn’t about sex, not completely. This was proof, a carnal declaration of their desire for one another. That somewhere along the way, it had evolved into something more. This was Derek showing him his willingness to trust Stiles.

Stiles’ hips stuttered as liquid heat spread along his spine and tingled along his lower belly. He braced an arm on the wall beside Derek, grabbed his hip with the other, and started thrusting faster, spurned further by Derek’s soft ‘ah-ah-ah’s of pleasure. Before Stiles could realize it, he had started talking.

“I never lied to you, Derek. All those times when I said I didn’t trust you. I wasn’t lying, because at the time I really didn’t. But I couldn’t deny that even at that time, I pretty much already wanted you.”

Derek twisted his head so he could look at Stiles. He had a blissful expression on his face, the flush on his face growing stronger.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Stiles said, leaning down to kiss Derek’s slack mouth.

The angle between their lower bodies changed and Stiles felt Derek’s hitch of breath when Stiles’ cock brushed against the sweet spot of Derek’s hole.

“S-Stiles, I… I have to…”

Stiles reached around with one hand, gripping Derek’s cock. He stroked him in tandem with an angled swivel of his hips, his cock brushing from Derek’s hole to his balls in one smooth slide.

Derek’s moan was pure sex.

Stiles continued the pace, his hand and hips moving in synchronized motion. Derek started thrusting back, giving their bodies more friction and heat. Stiles needed Derek to come, needed to see him let go, needed to feel the splatter of his essence against Stiles’ hand.

The sounds of their groans and moans, the slap-slap-slap of skin and their hitched breaths were bouncing on the walls. Stiles could feel the steady wave of pleasure building inside him. His hips were moving erratically and Derek was thrusting back just as unevenly, his eyes closed and mouth parted. Stiles was stroking Derek in long but somewhat uneven strokes, sweeping his thumb against the underside of the head of Derek’s cock at every other motion. Derek reached down, twining their hands together and pumping himself fast and hard.

Stiles whispered against Derek’s ear. “Next time, it’s my turn to have your cock, and I want it in me.”

Derek let out a deep groan when Stiles’ cock slid deeper between his legs, stroking against Derek’s balls. Stiles pressed his forehead to Derek’s back, could taste the man’s salty skin against his lips.

“I-I’m…”

Stiles wasn’t sure which one of them tried to speak, but next thing he knew, everything was white noise and he was pressing closer and harder into Derek as he spilled his come between Derek’s legs. Stiles shuddered and a small part of his brain registered the feel of long, thick ropes of hot come against his hand.

After what felt like hours, but probably only seconds, he realized he had pressed into Derek hard enough to push the other man onto his tiptoes. Stiles gently pulled back.

“You ok?” Stiles asked, dropping kisses Derek’s shoulder in apology.

Derek huffed. He had a small, sated smile on his face when he turned around on shaky legs. Stiles couldn’t resist capturing his mouth in a tender kiss.

“Yeah,” Derek said, one arm wrapping around Stiles’ waist and their foreheads pressed together. His eyes were bright and Stiles couldn’t help flushing at the genuine joy coming from Derek. “I’m actually kind of perfect right now.”

Stiles smiled and his heart skipped a bit when Derek smiled back.

* * *

Dinner was simple and easy. They sat on the counter in silence, Stiles wearing Derek’s shirts and boxers and Derek only in soft pajama pants. They ate and talked softly about random things, exchanging gentle kisses and soft laughter. So it was actually a surprise to Stiles when he woke up, disoriented between what was real and what was a dream. He could feel the soft bed under him and could sense the comforting form of the person on the other side of the bed.

A glance at the clock told him they had only been asleep for around two hours. He saw the time and cursed under his breath. He scrambled off the bed to get his phone from his bag. He had a few text messages and missed calls from the team wondering where he was and where he slept.

“Shit.”

The light from the hallway was spilling under the door and it was enough for Stiles to locate his clothes. He threw them on in a hurry and grabbed his backpack. He paused.

Stiles looked back at the bed at Derek’s sleeping form. He was stretched out on his stomach, facing Stiles’ side of the bed. He had one arm nestled under his pillow and one leg curved up. The blankets bunched around his waist. Stiles could see the expanse of his smooth back and the triskelion tattooed prominently between his shoulder blades. Derek’s face was lax and smooth in sleep, young and beautiful and Stiles felt warm and giddy at the possibility that he could, maybe, probably, hopefully, get to see this sight again.

He really, really, _really_ hoped so.

Stiles leaned down, pressing his lips lightly against Derek’s temple and then shuffled off, closing the door gently behind him. He was the only one in the elevator and the only one to see him shuffle out of the building was the doorman. The doorman simply nodded to him politely.

Stiles walked out onto the sidewalk. He cast the Hale Hotel one last look and then disappeared into the night.

* * *

Stiles arrived back home, just in time to see two unmarked black jeeps park themselves on the street. He barely had time to get his wits about him before he saw men and women dressed in black get out of the jeeps and head straight for his house.

They were all carrying guns.

“Shit.”

Stiles ran.

He ran as fast as he could, down the street and into their neighbor’s front yard without being seen. He jumped over the dog house and the trash bins and then vaulted neatly over the fence, landing right at the small alley behind their house.

Stiles already knew he was too late even before he heard someone screaming from inside the house.

Erica.

It was joined by the sound of gunfire.

Holy fuck.

Stiles immediately ran down the alley, straight for the only window. It led into the hall closet just across from his room. The latch was faulty and a twist of the window pane from outside made it slide open. Stiles shimmied inside.

He thought about the layout of the house. He and Allison had the rooms farthest away at the back of the house. Scott and Erica had the ones near the front and Rusty had the middlemost room.

He landed inside, keeping the window open for a quick exit later. He could hear more screaming and gunfire and opened the door slowly, checking the hall. It would take a while before they reached this place.

Stiles ran to his room. He grabbed a duffel bag from under his bed and then upended the mattress, pulling out a suitcase. There was more gunfire outside and Stiles bit back a yelp. He opened it, revealing his handguns, holsters, and weapons. There was a shout and more crashes and Stiles almost dropped his gun.

Scott.

He gritted his teeth, clamped his beltbag around his waist and slung his duffel bag across his back. He crept towards the door and pulled it open. He winced as he heard gunshots and what was undoubtedly Erica’s voice shouting above some strangers’ voices. Someone appeared from the hall and Stiles pointed his gun at him on automatic. He sighed when he saw it was Rusty, armed to the teeth with his emergency duffel and a laptop bag over a shoulder.

“Stilinski!” Rusty growled quietly. “Where the fuck have you been?!”

Stiles didn’t answer him and crept over to Allison’s room, pushing it open. He immediately found Allison pointing a gun at him.

“Stiles! Rusty!” Allison gasped out, lowering her gun. She also had her guns, beltbag, and emergency duffel with her.

“Let’s go,” Stiles said instead. “Hall closet. Now.”

“No, I’m not leaving them,” Allison growled out.

“Allison!” Rusty hissed, wincing when he heard more gunfire. “We can’t stay here! We’ll–”

“Allison Argent!” Someone inside the house roared.

Allison cringed and Stiles and Rusty aimed their guns down the hall.

“RUN, ALLISON!”

“IF YOU TOUCH HER, I WILL KILL YOU!”

Allison gasped, Rusty cursed, and Stiles bit his lip hard enough to draw blood at the sound of Erica and Scott.

“Allison, we have to go,” Stiles said. His insides were screaming at him to go back and save his friends. Do something. But he can’t. “We have to run. I know it’s–”

“HE’LL KILL US ALL ANYWAY!” Scott was shouting somewhere inside the house. “RUN! THEY’LL–” His words stopped and he started screaming.

“Motherfucker,” Rusty mumbled. They turned to Allison.

Allison looked conflicted but she steeled herself and nodded, skirting past Stiles and Rusty to get to the hall closet.

Just before Allison entered the closet, she let out a shout.

“If you hurt them, I will kill all of you!”

By the time the intruders found the hall closet and the window, the trio were long gone.

* * *

Stiles jerked awake, grabbing the knife under his pillow and holding it out to some phantom treat. It took a while for him to realize where he was and he let out a heavy breath when he saw he was safe and sound in a familiar bedroom. He tucked the knife back under the pillow and rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

“Goddammit,” he mumbled.

There was a soft creak.

“Are you awake?”

He looked up to see Deaton, looking as tired as he felt. He walked in, carrying a small tray.

“You didn’t have to, Doc,” Stiles said.

Deaton shook his head. “It’s the least I could do. You had a rough night.”

“Where’s Rusty?” Stiles asked.

“He’s been up and on his computer since dawn,” Deaton said. “I don’t think he slept much.”

The tray had a warm mug of coffee, a plate piled high with pancakes, and apple slices. He smiled thankfully at the doctor before digging into his meal.

Deaton let him eat in silence as he bustled around the room, picking up the discarded clothing and piling them on an extra chair and then pushing the duffel bags over to the corner. He settled by the desk, checking over the guns and knives laid out across it and started cleaning them.

Deaton lived pretty far off from the rest of the team in an apartment above his vet clinic. The neighborhood was good for his business and being so far away meant the team had a place to run to in case of emergencies, like now.

“Did you hear from Willow and Allison?” Stiles asked.

Deaton shook his head, rubbing the barrel of a handgun. “Just that message from last night, when Allison arrived safely at her bakery. But we all know it would be dangerous for them to make contact now so I think it’ll be a while before we get word.”

Stiles nodded, running a hand through his hair. He thought about last night’s decision, wondering if it was the right course of action.

 

_They were around ten blocks away from the house when they decided to take a breather._

_“Come on,” Rusty led them to a small alley, settling down behind the trash bins and hidden from the streets._

_They sat there for a while, trying to catch their breaths, tired and sweaty from heaving around their bags and weapons._

_“What’s the plan now?” Allison asked, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “We need someplace to hide, obviously.”_

_“Dr. Deaton’s our go-to place for emergency, but it’s pretty far off,” Stiles said, still panting a little. “Those guys, whoever they are, have jeeps. Number one priority is to get Allison to safety.”_

_Allison looked a bit outraged. “Number one priority is_ everyone’s _safety, not just me.”_

_Rusty shook his head. “Not right now it’s not. Those dudes have Scott and Erica and you’re the bargaining chip. You have to be safe.”_

_Allison looked ready to protest but she didn’t, looking away with an angry huff, more at herself than her friends._

_“It’s not safe for you to still be out here,” Stiles said to her softly. “And Dr. Deaton’s place is halfway on the other side of the city. We’re just three blocks away from Willow’s bakery. Allison and Rusty, you two go ahead there. Hide with Willow.”_

_“What about you?” Rusty asked._

_“I’ll be fine,” Stiles said. “I’ll head to Deaton’s. It’s dangerous for everyone to be in one place.”_

_“No,” Allison said, looking angry. “His clinic is well on the other side of town. It’s dangerous for you alone.”_

_“It’ll be ok. I’ll–”_

_“I’ll head to Willow’s, if that’s what you want,” Allison said, looking determined. “I can take the three blocks alone. You two head to Deaton’s. It’s farther away and you two will have each other’s backs in case something happens.”_

_“Someone has to stay with you, Allison,” Rusty said. “You can’t–”_

_“Protect myself?” Allison growled at him. “Let me remind you I can shoot better than both of you.”_

_Rusty and Stiles had nothing else to say to that._

 

“Do you think they’ll go to Miss Cass?” Stiles asked.

Deaton shook his head. “Probably not. You know the plan.”

In case of trouble, none of them were allowed to go to Cass’s mansion. Not yet. Cass was never to be compromised in anything because she was the one with the power to get them out of trouble, and she couldn’t do that if it was discovered she was harboring fugitives. Even if the team was behind bars, or kidnapped, or anything else, so long as Cass was still free of trouble, she would be able to get them out. And they all trusted she would. Just like they knew she’ll pull through for them now. They just had to wait until Cass does some damage control.

Breakfast was over before they decided to get to business.

“Did you find out anything?” Stiles asked.

Deaton twined his fingers together in thought. “Very minimal, to be honest. Even the police had no idea who could have possibly targeted you.”

“But they knew Allison,” Stiles said. “They called her an Argent. They knew who she was. We could just go with the obvious. It could be the Argents. Maybe they finally found Allison.”

Deaton frowned. “That’s a possibility but the Argents wouldn’t want to draw this much attention to themselves. And Cassandra made sure no one knows all about Allison’s real identity. We can’t not count the idea that it could be someone else, someone powerful and skilled enough to get this information and use Allison to get to her family. There are a lot of variables to consider.”

“Fuck,” Stiles muttered.

“I will keep up with my contacts in the police,” Deaton said. “In the meantime, you’ll be interested to see that I managed to get these just this morning from a friend.” He pulled a small ziplock bag from his pocket and handed it to Stiles. “These are all they have so far.”

Stiles took it and held it to the light. Bullets.

“Maybe Rusty can try and get more info on these,” Stiles said.

They headed to the living room where Rusty was seated on the couch. There were two laptops on the table already up and running, his and Deaton’s.

“Rusty,” Stiles called out. “I was wondering if you–”

The doorbell rang.

“Sorry, probably a client,” Deaton called out, heading downstairs.

“Rusty,” Stiles tried again. “Did you get anything from what happened last night?”

“Nothing yet,” Rusty said, typing fast. “I’m still looking. Even the police seemed clueless about this one.”

Before Stiles could reply, he heard frantic voices from below.

“What’s going on?” Stiles asked.

The door burst open and Rusty and Stiles gasped. Deaton was carrying in Willow who had a bleeding arm and was swaying unsteadily on her feet.

“Hey, boys,” she said, coughing. “Guess what? Those motherfuckers found me.”

With that said, Willow collapsed, unconscious.

* * *

Stiles glanced at the unconscious Willow laid out on the couch and tucked the covers tighter around her sleeping form. That impromptu bullet extraction Deaton did on her arm had taken a toll on her.

The news about how Willow’s bakery burned down was immediately on the mid-morning news and what they all saw shocked them. By the time the firemen came in, the small bakery was completely engulfed by flames. The fire was put off quickly but it was too late. Willow’s bakery was gone. The source of the fire hasn’t been reported yet, but now the police were issuing on a search for Willow. Of course they weren’t planning on reporting her, especially because it would spell bad news if the police started questioning her about the bullet in her arm. But she was in bad shape and Deaton was contacting Miss Cass to ask for help.

Stiles tapped his bare foot against the floor. Rusty was in his room, still on his laptop and looking out for any updates about the police’s progress. Stiles stood up, deciding to head to the kitchen to get some water, when he passed by the table which still contained Deaton’s things. He happened to glance at the cloth spread out on the table that contained the bullet from Willow’s arm. It was still tinged with blood and placed innocently on the kitchen table.

He headed towards the table, wrapped the bullet in the cloth, and then ran back to his room where he had placed the ziplocked bullet he got from Deaton. He spread out the cloth to reveal the bullet and then placed the small plastic bag beside it. He leaned down, observing them.

As he thought, they were identical.

It was like a chord was struck inside him.

Stiles straightened. He swiveled around to stare at his duffel bag.

No. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. This was just a crazy thought.

With shaking hands, he grabbed his duffel and dug inside to get to one of the inside pockets. It contained the first and only thing Derek had given him: the bullet. He placed it beside the first two.

Stiles examined all three bullets side by side, from Derek’s bullet, to the one found at Blackstar Inc.’s house, to the one from Willow’s injury.

They were all identical.

“No… No way…”

Stiles felt like the rug was pulled under him. He clutched at his throat, feeling like he couldn’t breathe.

It couldn’t be. Derek… Derek wouldn’t… He would never…

The knock on his door made him jolt. Before he could get his bearings, Rusty walked in.

“Stiles, can I talk to you?”

“I… uh… it’s not…” Stiles stuttered, still reeling from what he had discovered. “I’m a bit…”

“Where were you last night?” Rusty asked.

Stiles was too caught up thinking about the bullets he almost didn’t caught the question.

“W-What?”

Rusty looked grim and serious. “I said, where were you last night? You didn’t come home last night but you showed up out of the blue when those attackers came. So, I ask again, where were you?”

Stiles didn’t really have time to answer before Rusty plowed on.

“You were with Derek Hale, weren’t you?”

Stiles jerked. “What are you talking about? That’s ridiculous,” he protested weakly, but he knew from Rusty’s face that he knew the truth.

Rusty’s face turned into an ugly expression. “I was studying some of the pictures some of the reporters got when they arrived on scene. Guess who I saw lurking around? One of Derek’ Hales men, that guy who threw us out of Dayanara Gemini’s club, the tall blonde one with curly hair.”

Stiles’ breath hitched. Isaac.

“I thought, hey, maybe the Hales have something to do with this,” Rusty said, eyes narrowing. “After all, a bunch of mafia suits swarming around, especially at a crime scene, are bound to be up to something. So I looked for recent information on and activity by the Hales.”

Rusty glared at him. “Did you know there are security cameras trained outside the Hale hotel, Stiles? Cameras that caught you walking out of their building late last night? It was easy enough to rewind the damn things to see you walking inside yesterday afternoon.”

There was silence and Stiles felt his heart beating faster and throat squeezing tighter.

“You were with Derek Hale last night.”

“Rusty, I…”

“Does Scott even know about this?” Rusty shouted, angry. “Miss Cass told us to stay away from him!”

Stiles almost sobbed. “I know, Rusty! I know! I didn’t–”

Rusty scoffed and his face contorted into a grimace. “At this point, I don’t give a fuck about what you say.” He spun around on his heels. “I always thought you were on our side. Maybe I’m wrong. And now they found us. That’s on you.”

With one last scathing look, Rusty walked off.

Stiles collapsed where he stood, burying his face in his hands.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, curled up against the side of the desk with his head in his hands and his knees to his chest. He didn’t think of anything, couldn’t do anything, just sit there and breathe and try not to crumble. He only came to when he felt a warm hand on the top of his head.

Stiles looked up to a flash of blue hair and a kind smile.

“Miss Cass,” he sobbed.

Cass’s smile was one of complete relief and when she opened her arms, Stiles threw himself on her, curling against her like a child, gripping her forearms.

He remembered the first time Cass had embraced him. It was when he and Scott first came into her employment years ago. Her arms was tight around him and Stiles couldn’t help weeping, so relieved at the feeling of warmth and safety this stranger provided, a parental figure who soothed his battered soul after he had lost his parents. This embrace was the same, strong and warm and affectionate, and Stiles pressed his face to her shoulder, shaking.

“You’re safe now, Stiles,” Cass whispered, running her fingers through his hair. “You’re safe. I’m here now.”

* * *

Cass knew she was a hard and difficult woman, strict and disciplined and more than a bit fierce in protecting what was hers and the people closest to her, like her team and Stiles.

By the time Cass ushered the remaining members of her team into her mansion, it was late into the night. Willow, who was laid out on a stretcher by some bodyguards, were carried straight to the most comfortable room in the mansion, one of Cass’s doctors already following. Deaton went after her, casting Cass a worried look. Rusty was obviously angry, although Cass didn’t know why. He just stomped off, claiming his own room. Stiles hung back, sticking close to Cass.

“Aren’t you tired?” Cass asked, as Stiles followed her to her office. This was the first time they’ve all been at her place and on a normal day, she knew Stiles would be bouncing off the walls and raring to investigate with Scott, Erica, and Allison in tow. But now Stiles was almost completely silent.

Stiles shook his head. Cass sat down on her desk chair and waved for Stiles to sit down on the chair across.

“Have you… Do you…” Stiles looked away, biting his lip.

Cass rubbed her forehead with one hand. “I’m using every resource I can to find them but the clues have been more than a bit misleading. Things are not as they appear to be.”

Stiles’ voice was quiet but Cass could hear his soft murmur. “I agree,” he said.

Cass leaned back on her seat, hands twined. She looked at him.

Cass had never and would never deny that she had a soft spot for Stiles above all her other charges. She was sure everyone knew that. Stiles was so young, only sixteen years old, when his father and last remaining family was taken from him. But he was strong and proud, a fighter. Cass cared for Scott as well, so loyal if a bit foolish when he chose to be the family his best friend needed.

Cass sighed, taking off her hair tie and messing up her dyed-blue braid. Stiles sat across from her, quiet and vulnerable. He was saddened, but he was here, in the heart of Cass’s home, small and trusting.

Trusting.

“Stiles, this has been a long night, I think we should just–”

“Tell me.”

Cass paused.

Stiles looked at her. “Tell me what it is you’re hiding from me.”

Cass wasn’t surprised. At this point, Stiles probably wasn’t up for bullshit and god knows how much Cass had been hiding from him. But he looked at her with so much expectation, eyes steely and strong and hopeful.

She dredged up her resolved and fixed him with a serious look. “Stiles, I know that you know that I have not been as honest with you as I should have been.”

Stiles nodded.

“I have my reasons why I keep these things from you,” Cass said. “I cannot promise that they’re fair, or that they’re right, but all of them have been to protect you and Scott and all of my charges.”

“I know,” Stiles said, voice firm and with no trace of hesitation.

Cass decided to just go ahead and drop bomb after bomb. She owed Stiles that much.

“First things first then. If we’re talking about honesty, then I should say that I am well aware you’ve had a few trysts with Derek Hale. I also know you were with him last night when Blackstar Inc.’s house was attacked.”

That got a reaction from Stiles, guilt flashing through his features. “I… I know. I… Rusty also just found out. I…”

Ah, that explained Rusty’s mood.

Stiles huffed in frustration, though it seemed to be more at himself than Cass. “I knew you told us to stay away and I wanted to, Miss Cass, I swear. I just–”

“No need to explain,” Cass said, giving him a small smile. “Your attraction to him is obvious, my dear.”

Stiles looked angry at himself, hands balling into fists. He mumbled something under his breath.

“But,” Cass said. “There is a reason I told you to stay away from him, Stiles. It’s more than just him being a dangerous man.”

Stiles’ face morphed into one of seriousness, obviously knowing this was more than just information, this was truth.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Cass twirled a lock of her blue hair around her finger. “When you and Scott first came to my employment after Willow recruited you, what did I say?”

“That you knew who we were,” Stiles said.

Cass nodded. “At the time, you both thought it was because I probably had done some digging up, a few background checks, and a few spies running around. Maybe I did, but for the most part Stiles, I didn’t have to.”

“You… you knew who we were before we even met.” Stiles looked contemplative, gears turning in his head. “Is that what you mean?”

Cass leaned back on her seat. “Your father, John Stilinski, the late Sheriff of Beacon Hills, died on duty at a shootout almost four years ago. They were chasing after the suspects in a homicide case. Three officers died with him that day.” She looked at Stiles, who was a mix of confused, frustrated, and pained at the memories.

“The victim in the homicide case was a lawyer, Katrina Carson. Katrina was my sister.”

Stiles reared back in shock like he was slapped on the face. “W-What?”

Cass closed her eyes briefly, the memories a sharp stab of pain in her chest. “Kat was my older sister. She and my parents had a falling out and she moved away. Kat and I kept in touch but I stayed to look after the family business. I was in Dubai when I found out what happened. I went back to Beacon Hills, took over her affairs, and I was there when word got around that you disappeared,” she looked at Stiles. “Scott McCall and you… Genim Stilinski.”

Hearing his real name made something crumple in Stiles’ expression and Cass had to stop herself from apologizing or reaching out to comfort him.

Cass continued. “I let you two go on for a while, kept tabs on where you were and what you were doing, and when I thought you’ve been alone for long enough, I had Willow find you.”

“Scott and I have always wondered about that,” Stiles said, looking down at his lap, his voice barely above a whisper. “We weren’t stupid. We knew we probably would have died, either by starvation or some random mugging. We were sixteen and stupid and knew shit about how to travel and survive and be on our own. We thought we’d eventually go back to Beacon Hills, when we were desperate for it.”

Stiles looked out the windows at the cold night. “But we always seemed so lucky. We’d find pennies or dollars on the streets, or good enough clothing on dumpsters, or a stranger would tell us where to find some shelter, or give us food or a cup of coffee. Once a police officer gave us doughnuts and didn’t arrest us.” He gave her a wry grin. “I should have known. You’ve always had an influence over the police.”

“My sister’s husband was a police officer,” Cass said. “I loved him like a brother so I’ve always been an ally.”

Stiles hesitated. “Is that how you… Rusty was the one who found out about this months ago, but is that how you got them to declare me dead back in Beacon Hills?”

Cass winced. This was a decision she didn’t know why she made in the first place and even now, was unsure why. “Yes, Beacon Hills stopped looking for you because I made them stop. As far as they know, you’re dead. So no one would find you and you’d be safe.”

Stiles was silent for a while, mulling that over. Cass wasn’t sure what he was thinking.

Stiles voice was soft. “Why? Why do I have to be safe?”

Cass looked him in the eye. “The case my sister, Kat, was working on, the case that got her killed,” Cass took a breath, “Was the Hale family fire seven years ago.”

The look on Stiles’ face was beyond words, his eyes wide with betrayal and his skin paling. Cass had to look away.

Everyone knew of the Hale family fire, the supposed catalyst for Derek Hale’s descent into the criminal underworld. Twelve people died in that fire, Derek’s entire family.

“My sister became fascinated with the case,” Cass said. “She was convinced that she could solve it, spent years working on it. She died because whoever it was, wanted the secret to die with her.”

Cass cleared his throat. “And Stiles, Derek has been trying to solve this case for years.”

Stiles looked like he was slapped hard across the face. He pushed his chair back, hands splayed across the tabletop, his form trembling. “Y-You and Derek are working together.”

“Not quite,” Cass said. “We are aware of each other and we don’t get in one another’s way, that’s all.”

“But he’s a criminal,” Stiles protested weakly.

Cass looked at him and she saw the moment Stiles realized the truth.

“Despite my connections, it still took me a while to find out. But Derek Hale and his entire enterprise working for the police is a heavily-guarded secret. I wouldn’t have found out had Derek not tell me.”

“I-It can’t be,” Stiles was muttering to himself. “He couldn’t… He was the one who…” He turned to her. “But Derek’s been responsible for handling most of the bad guys in the city. He kidnapped Erica before. He threatened to kill her. He threatened to kill me.”

“That, I can’t explain,” Cass said, sighing heavily. “But nothing is what it seems, Stiles. Especially not with that man.”

Stiles still had his palms on the table, eyes glazed over and thoughts obviously running a mile a minute.

“I know you’re confused about all this, Stiles,” Cass said. “Believe me, I am too. I don’t know the full story and I don’t really trust the Hales, but they’re doing some good behind the scenes.”

“I don’t… I don’t believe this,” Stiles said. “How can you think they’re good? That Derek’s good?”

“Because, Stiles, while there was no evidence found on who killed your father, my sister, and the Hale family, we all know who really did it.”

Stiles looked like he didn’t want to know the answer, but he asked anyway. “Who?”

Cass looked at him with all seriousness.

“The one Derek Hale is working so hard to bring down: the Argent family.”

* * *

“What are we going to do now?” Danny asked, frowning.

Boyd shook his head. “This whole thing has gotten a bit messy.”

“We have to tie up the loose ends, boss,” Lydia said, eyes determined.

“And we will,” Derek said, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window of his office.

Derek looked back at his team, Lydia, Boyd, Isaac, Danny, and Jackson, all lined up and ready for any and all orders, ready to put their lives on the line.

“Four years of work is almost finished,” Derek said. “Almost.”

“Anything you want to do, boss. We’re behind you all the way,” Isaac said, nodding determinedly.

“Yes, we are,” Jackson said.

Derek flashed them a thankful smile. “We need to get things back into balance, start tipping the scales to our favor. We’ll start with our biggest and strongest ammo.” He looked at the other side of the room.

Seated at the corner, silent and still and her hands on her knees, was Allison.

Derek nodded to her. “Miss Argent, we are counting on your help.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be updating the tags and changing ratings if/when I need to as the chapters roll in.
> 
> Thank you.


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